


January

by TeekiJane



Series: A Year Apart [6]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeekiJane/pseuds/TeekiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a new year, but Adam can't help but look back to the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Early Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew that I could ever be so afraid of something so stupid?

I’d been a little mad at my brothers when December ended. Robby had called me just after Christmas, telling me he was having a New Year’s party at his house. Since his older brother would also be around and was really the one hosting, there would be a keg and probably, some bottles. He was inviting as much of the ‘old gang’ as possible. Shane had joined the Air Force and wasn’t around, and Dan had quit hanging out with us. But there was still Scott and Kevin and, of course, me and Jordan. And we’d managed to get ahold of a few of the girls we used to hang out with, and some of them were going to go. I figured I’d even ask Byron, although I knew he’d turn me down.

But when I’d told Jordan about the plans, he’d surprised me. Haley was having a party of her own that same night—a quiet little event, with eight or ten guests. “Well, that’s okay,” I’d said. “You can always come over after you’re done at Haley’s.” Haley wasn’t exactly Princess Party, right? That get-together had to end just after midnight. 

Jordan had gotten uncomfortable. “She invited everyone to spend the night,” he’d said, not making eye contact. “I’m sure you’d be welcome to come if you wanted. Byron and Vanessa are both going to be there.” 

But even if I had actually gotten an invitation from Haley instead of secondhand from Jordan, hanging out in the Braddock house, with her parents nonetheless, was not my idea of a good party. Not when the other option involved a keg and my old friends. 

So my brothers had gone to Haley’s and I’d gone to Robby’s. And I wasn’t really mad at Byron; I mean, he was actually spending more time with me during break than he had over summer, especially since Jeff wasn’t around to distract him. Jordan was a different story, though. Any time I invited him to go out and do a group activity, he either already had other plans or was too tired. Looking back on it, I can see that it was probably mostly coincidence. But while I was looking for any excuse to leave the house and get away from our family, Jordan was spending most of his time hanging out with our sisters and our parents. 

I totally didn’t get it. 

In any case, something good did come out of that party at Robby’s. Robby had invited his ex-girlfriend—the girl he’d dated on and off throughout high school. Jordan had counted it up once, and in three years they’d broken up at least twenty-one times. She’d brought some girls that had hung out with us when we were younger but had gone their own way during the last two years of high school. I’d never been particularly close to either of them, but that worked to my advantage. Scott and I had gotten them alone and I’d managed to get one to spend some one-on-one time with me. We had been a little too drunk for her to agree to too much, but she did say she wanted to hang out with me some more. I figured we could leave things loose; she went to UConn and was leaving to go back to school the same weekend I was going back to Ohio. We could go on a few dates and see where things went. Scott had equal luck with her friend. 

I got home from a double date with Scott and the two girls one day in early January to find my mom waiting for me. I looked at the clock as I came into the kitchen. It was only one-thirty, and it wasn’t like I was fifteen and had an eleven o’clock curfew. It was kind of late for Mom to be up, though, so I knew she had to be waiting for me. “What’s up, Mom?” I asked as I walked by her and opened the fridge, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. 

Mom looked as tired as you’d expect at that hour, considering she’d worked all day and had to be at work again in the morning. “You had a whole bunch of phone calls while you were out tonight,” she said quietly. 

I raised my eyebrows. The Queen of England must have called if Mom actually waited up to give me the messages. “Really? Who were they from?” 

She rubbed her eyes. It looked like she’d been crying. “Tiffany Kilbourne called you a couple of times, shortly after you left. And then her sister called. She left you a message.” Mom pulled the message out and made a show of reading it, but I could tell she didn’t need to. She knew exactly what that paper said. “She told me to tell you that Tiffany had a six pound, nine ounce baby boy tonight. She said Tiff was hoping you’d stop by and see them tomorrow while they’re still in the hospital.” 

Oh, boy. I shut the fridge door without removing anything. Two things: first, I tried to remember back to when Tiffany was due. That day in July hadn’t exactly been one of my favorite moments, so I’d tried to forget most of it. The date was January tenth; it was now very early on January fourth. Was it normal for babies to be a week early? I didn’t really know. 

Second, I’d never told just about anyone about the scare I’d had with Tiff. I hadn’t told my friends, and I’d definitely never told my parents. For obvious reasons, I didn’t want my mom to know I was, in her words, ‘sexually active.’ I didn’t need any lectures, or well-meaning advice, and I sure as hell didn’t want Dad slipping me condoms and telling me to ‘be careful.’ Neither Mal nor Vanessa, who were, to my knowledge, the only other siblings having sex, had told my parents either. I’m sure my parents were at least a little suspicious that _someone_ in the family was; after all, we _were_ teenagers. 

I tried to play the Tiffany thing off like Mom wasn’t thinking what she was thinking. “Oh, that’s good for her,” I said coolly. “The baby’s a week early. I bet she’s glad he came early instead of late.” 

Mom was having no part of it. “Adam, answer me straight,” she said, looking me dead in the eye. “Is this your child?” 

I shook my head. “No, Mom, honest. Do the math on it. I didn’t start dating her again until late May or early June. How could this be my baby?” 

She paused and thought about that for a moment. “Oh, thank God,” she murmured when she realized I was right. She pulled me into a hug and, bemused, I let her. “I told Jordan as a joke a couple weeks ago that you all weren’t allowed to make me a grandmother for another ten years. I thought maybe this was the universe trying to be funny as well.” 

“Believe me, Mom,” I told her earnestly, “I have no plans to have any kids now, ten years from now, or quite possibly, ever.” 

Mom looked serious about that. “And what are you doing to prevent that from happening?” she asked. I cringed; here was that conversation I never wanted to have. I looked away and I saw Mom watch me closely. I looked back at her and I could see she knew without my saying a word. She sighed. “Just be careful, Adam,” she said. “Both with your body and your heart. Okay? That’s the most a mother can ask for.” 

I nodded, glad Dad wasn’t here for this. He wouldn’t have stopped there; I’m pretty sure he had a whole speech planned for when he finally found one of us was sleeping around. He’d already given Jordan a version of it when he’d been caught just making out with a girl when we were fifteen. “I’ll be careful,” I reiterated. 

*** 

The reality of Mom’s message from Tiff didn’t hit me until I woke up in the morning. I’d tiptoed around my bedroom that night, trying not to wake Jordan, who was already fast asleep in his bed. And when I awoke in the morning, he was already gone. I’d sat up and stretched and scratched and done all those other morning things when I suddenly realized: _Tiff had a baby._ A real, honest-to-goodness child. A son. 

Not only that, she wanted me to come visit her and her new baby. I couldn’t think of a single good reason why she would want that. I hadn’t stayed in touch like I’d said I would. I hadn’t meant to be bad about it; I’d just kinda forgotten when I got busy with school and the like. Tiff had sent me a few emails and I’d replied to them, but never right away and not with much detail about my own life. I’d basically just answered her questions and not much else. 

I hopped out of bed to find my stomach in a knot, although I wasn’t sure exactly why. I had been right when I’d told Mom there was no way this was my kid. It wasn’t possible that she could have had a full-sized baby this quickly if that ultrasound tech back in the day had been wrong. It wasn’t as if I could walk in there and hear her say, ‘We did a DNA test and you actually are the dad.’ 

I put on a little bit of clothing and wandered down to the kitchen to find that I was the last one of the family up and moving. My younger siblings had gone back to school that day, making the house much quieter. The shower was running as I passed it on my way to the stairs, and I found Jordan hogging the entire kitchen table. He had stuff scattered everywhere, but he was focusing his attention on a plain white box he was trying to wrap in pink sparkly paper. “You’re a little late for Christmas,” I observed. 

He shoved the box aside and sat down. “I’m going to need Byron to help me with this,” he said, as if I hadn’t even spoken. “I spent extra money on this damn wrapping paper, but it’s so stiff and sturdy that I can’t get it to fold right. You know how he always wraps stuff and it looks like it’s a prop in a movie?” 

I snorted. “Don’t they usually have the two sides of the box wrapped separately, so they just pull the box apart and not have to rewrap for every take?” Jordan lay his head down on the table, looking disgusted. “You might not want to do that,” I cautioned. “Your wrapping paper’s shedding.” 

He lifted his head back up and just as I suspected, he was covered in pink glitter. He had it in his hair and scattered across this face and even in his eye lashes. I forgot my own issues for a moment and burst out laughing as Jordan swiped a hand across his face, clearing most of the glitter off and sending it flying. “What are you wrapping anyway?” 

“Haley’s birthday present,” he said. “I bought her this blue sweater with really deep pockets. She’s always complaining her hands are cold at work, so I added some hand warmers—you know, those microwavable ones—in the pockets.” 

I nodded; I had some vague memory of Byron mentioning, several years ago, that Haley hated having a January birthday because most of her relatives sent her birthday presents with her Christmas presents, wrapped in Christmas paper. I wondered briefly if Tiff’s son would have the same kinds of problems, but I shook the thought off. “Are you giving that to her before you leave?” I asked Jordan. 

He gave me an odd look. “Yup.” Byron and I were dropping Jordan back off at the airport in the morning. I hated the thought of him leaving while I was still mildly irritated with him, but I figured maybe we could get a chance to talk that night…or maybe in the morning while we were driving. 

I shoved aside the Bellair’s bag and various crap that was at my end of the table, determined to make room so I could have some breakfast. One of the items was the receipt for the sweater. I raised my eyebrows when I saw how much Jordan had spent, but I knew better than to say anything. I didn’t want him to be as ticked off at me as I was at him. 

I had a bowl of cereal in front of me by the time Byron came down from the shower. He took one look at Jordan, who’d gone back to trying to wrap the gift, and shook his head. “Oh, for shit’s sakes,” he said, grabbing the package away from Jordan forcibly, “Why’d you buy this type of paper? It’s so hard to wrap with, and you know Hay’s not going to care. She’d be just as happy with the plain box, or with old paper from the junk room.” Jordan shrugged. Byron gave a half smile. “I suppose you want my help with this.” Jordan nodded and Byron sighed, mock dramatically. “Oh, okay.” 

He threw away the piece of paper Jordan had been using and dug around in the junk drawer, coming back with a tape measure. He measured all the dimensions of the box and then unrolled a fair piece of the pink sparkly paper and measured it. “Only you would measure the paper,” I observed. Byron gave me a look and continued with the tape. He placed the box in the exact center of the wrapping paper and began by making sharp creases all the way around it. He worked methodically and slowly. I stopped eating and joined Jordan as he stared at Byron’s work. 

Byron squirmed, and by way of distraction, he started narrating. “The keys to good wrapping,” he began, “are nice even creases, which prevent lumps, and using as little tape as possible. If you creased right, you only need three pieces of tape on each box.”

Jordan watched as Bryon did indeed use only three pieces of tape. “Sometimes,” Jordan said slowly, “I look at you and think, ‘why didn’t I realize he was gay before he came out?’” 

I cracked a grin and Byron put the gift down and flipped him off. “See if I ever help you again,” he said, but he was smiling. 

Jordan reached into another shopping bag and pulled out some purple ribbon. “Yes, let’s see if you’ll ever help me again,” he quipped as he handed the ribbon to Byron, who accepted it with a good-natured sigh and began wrapping it around the gift. 

I finished my cereal just as Byron presented the finished gift to Jordan. “You should have your own television show,” I commented. 

“What? ‘Gift wrapping with Byron?’ No thanks. And it’s not like I have any other domestic skills.” 

I rinsed my bowl and put it in the dishwasher. “Are either of you two going to need the car this morning or early afternoon?” I asked. I figured I might as well get my hospital visit over with. 

The other two shook their heads. “Are you sure Vanessa didn’t take it to school?” Byron asked. 

I squinted out the back window, trying to see if the Civic was in the driveway, but Jordan answered the question for me. “Mom dropped Vanessa—and everyone else, actually—off at school, much to Vanessa’s dissatisfaction. She told her that we would be using the car this week and that she’d just have to arrange stuff with us.” The grin he gave said he was taking extreme pleasure in Vanessa’s vehicle downfall. 

“Great. Well, I have somewhere I have to go. I’m going to take a shower myself and then I’m leaving with the car.” 

Byron had started amassing his own breakfast while Jordan was cleaning up pink glitter from every surface. “Sounds good,” one of them called as I walked away. 

*** 

I left that morning just as planned, but despite my intentions, I didn’t go into the hospital. I drove up to the parking lot and then, without warning, I violently jerked the car back around and left. I drove around town for a while, and then ate lunch at Renwick’s. I felt like a fool sitting in that booth by myself, but not as big of a fool as I did about being scared to go visit Tiffany. Yes, I finally admitted to myself—scared just about covered it. I didn’t know what exactly I was scared of, but that made my fear even worse. 

After lunch, I tried to steel my nerves, but when I got in the car, I found myself at the theater instead of the hospital. I don’t even remember what I watched; I just know that I paid $5 to see something and I didn’t even pay attention. 

I got home just before school gets out at SHS. The house was deathly quiet on the ground floor, although I could hear muffled voices—and laughing—from upstairs. Whatever Byron and Jordan were doing, they were doing it together. I went up and passed my bedroom, finding the two of them sitting on Byron’s bed. “She really keeps it right next to her bed?” Jordan asked, disbelieving. 

“Yup,” Byron replied. “Pointed at her pillow, same as my picture of Jeff is at school.” They laughed some more. 

“If you weren’t gay, I might be jealous,” Jordan said with a shake of his head. 

“Of what? A Wandering Frog? That would be a productive jealousy.” 

Of course. They were talking about Haley again. What else did they have in common, really? I’d been standing in the doorway for almost a minute, but they hadn’t acknowledged me. I knocked on the doorframe, and they looked up and smiled. “Adam, come join us,” Jordan called. “There’s room for three.” 

I shook my head. “What are you two doing tonight?” I asked, not giving them time to answer. “I need one of you to come with me.” 

They looked at each other the same way Jordan and I usually did. I never thought I’d be jealous of Byron, but right at that moment? Yeah. “What’s the matter, Adam?” Jordan asked. “You in trouble? Need character references?” 

Byron was more serious. “Everything okay?” 

I shook my head, not really wanting to get into it. “I really just need one of you to come with me this afternoon or this evening.” 

Jordan looked at Nick’s alarm clock. “Haley will be home soon. I’m taking her out for an evening on the town. I actually need to get dressed.” I looked at what he was wearing—his least baggy jeans and a Yankees shirt. Even though I wasn’t a big fan of the latter, there really wasn’t anything wrong with it. He hopped off the bed. “We’re taking her car, so if you need the car tonight, you only have to deal with Vanessa.” With that, Jordan left the room. 

I knitted my brow and Byron looked me over. “Come here,” he ordered and patted the spot Jordan had just vacated. I came over and joined him on the bed, sitting just a little farther away than he’d hoped. “What bug crawled up your butt and died?” he asked. “You’re not usually this serious without good reason.” 

I took a deep breath. “Tiff had her baby last night,” I finally admitted. “A six pound, nine ounce baby boy.” 

“Oh,” Byron said brightly. “Good for her! I didn’t realize it was already time for that.” 

“He was about a week early,” I pointed out. Byron just nodded, but he watched me closely. He didn’t seem to think this was something to get upset about, and he was waiting for me to explain. “She asked that I come visit her today.” 

“I see,” Byron said. I get what he’s doing when he puts these big pauses into the conversation; he does that to give other people a chance to offer more information before he speaks. It works really well on Margo and Claire, but when he does it to me, it’s just annoying. “You were hoping one of us would go with you, for whatever reason,” he finally concluded. I nodded. “What are visiting hours?” 

I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I told him after a moment. “I didn’t get that far.” 

“Well,” said, still looking concerned, “Find out what those hours are. I have plans here in a minute—some of my friends from Kitchen  & Bath are picking me up and we’re going out for dinner and coffee—but I’ll be back by seven. I’ll go with you later this evening if they’re still allowing visitors.” 

I nodded again. The two of us sat silently side by side for a while. “Did she say what she named him?” Byron asked. 

“Dunno,” I replied. “I didn’t actually get to talk to her. Mom took a message from one of her sisters.” 

Byron cringed, much like I had when Mom had told me. “How did that conversation go?” he asked. 

“Better than I would have expected,” I admitted. “I think she knows, but she didn’t say anything about it.” 

“What can she say? I mean, last time I checked, by the definition of the law, we were adults. We’re legal to do just about anything except drink and rent a car. It’s not like you broke any of her rules, anyway, right?” Byron pulled his knees up to his chest and addressed me over them. “It’s not like you and Tiff were doing it in the house or anything.” 

I looked away and, probably, blushed. His eyes grew huge. “You did?” he asked. “When?” 

“Fourth of July.” 

“Wow.” Byron shook his head and focused back in on the point. “Why are you worried about going to visit her? You’ve generally never needed me and Jordan as a security blanket before. That’s more my shtick.” I turned back toward him and although he was serious, he’d put on a little smile. “You know it’s not your baby and you don’t have any responsibility, beyond being a decent human being. So what’s the problem?” 

“I guess…” I thought about that again. “I’m just worried about why she wanted me to come. Me, as opposed to her other ex-boyfriends.” 

“Adam, I think that she’s looking at it from the point of view that you were there when she started this journey, so she wants you to see where it ended. I mean, obviously you weren’t there when the baby was created, but you were there when she found out he existed. And you were there for several crucial steps along the way.” 

Before I could reply to that, Jordan came back down the hallway. I had to do a double-take before I was sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. He was wearing black pants—not jeans but something much nicer—and a black button-down shirt, tucked in. He held two ties in front of his chest. “Which one?” he asked. 

Byron had obviously been expecting this. “Well, what’s Haley wearing?” he asked. 

“A white dress with a red design on it,” Jordan answered. He then looked at the ties and his brain caught up to his mouth. “Oh, I see. I should try to coordinate.” 

“Or at the very least, not clash,” Byron confirmed. He looked at the ties also and shook his head. He jumped off the bed and went into his own drawer, where he emerged with a red tie with narrow black and white stripes. “Here.” 

I watched all of this without comment, because I felt like my mouth had dried up. Jordan, who didn’t like to wear anything vaguely resembling form-fitting, was going out looking like he just forgot his suit jacket? He looked pretty good, too. “Thanks. Now let’s see if I can tie it before Haley gets here.” He wandered back off toward the bathroom. 

I looked at Byron, my mouth still dried up, and he explained. “Today’s Haley’s birthday,” he said. I nodded; that also explained why Jordan had given me a strange look when I asked him if he was giving Haley her gift before he left. “He asked her what she wanted to do and she said she wanted to go dancing. Jordan found this place where they serve you dinner and then give you a ballroom dance lesson. It’s unbelievably corny, but Hay’ll eat it right up.” A horn honked outside. Byron went to the window and waved outside. “That’s Morgan and Teresa. I’ll see you later.” 

He hopped off the bed and grabbed his shoes from the corner, leaving with them still in his hand. I lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. I heard him hop his way down the stairs and then there was a moment while he put on his shoes and coat before the front door opened and shut. A few minutes passed before a second set of feet went down the stairs, more sedately this time. The door opened again and I heard Jordan greet Haley and her exclaim over something. After a moment, they left as well. 

The house was far too quiet for about two minutes before the back door slammed so hard I thought the house was vibrating. That could only mean one thing: Margo was home. She had been in such a mood for so long that I was actually getting used to this type of behavior out of her. I waited a few minutes to see if anyone else on their way home. According to the calendar downstairs by the door, Claire had art club on Tuesdays, while Vanessa had gotten a job working Tuesdays and Thursdays at the library. But Nick didn’t have any scheduled plans, so he might have been right behind Margo. 

When a sufficient amount of time went by to assume that Nick wasn’t coming, I got up and joined Margo in the kitchen. She was making herself a snack—peanut butter on graham crackers. “Margo?” I said quietly. She looked up from her peanut butter and scowled, going straight back to her knife. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this, but I sucked it up. “Can I ask you for a favor?” 

She still didn’t turn away from her food. “Really?” she asked, sounding nearly as enthusiastic about me talking to her as I felt. “You think I would ever do anything for you?” 

I sighed at sat down on the counter next to the peanut butter. “I remember a time when you would have given your right arm to hang out with me,” I observed. 

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” I thought back about it; it was two years ago when Margo was in eighth grade that she’d followed Jordan and me around as often as we’d let her (which wasn’t that often). Now she didn’t want to be in the same room we were in. 

“Listen,” I finally said, still in a quieter voice than she was used to hearing out of me, and I think that’s why she finally looked up from her food and even put the knife down, “I need someone to run an errand with me. All I need you to do is come with me for about an hour.” 

“And what do I get out of this?” 

I wrinkled my nose. “The ability to hold it over my head that I actually asked you for help?” Margo made a big show of getting ready to pick up the knife and start ignoring me. “What were you hoping I’d give you?” 

She was clearly softening. “Can we stop on the way home and get a milkshake?” she asked. 

“That’s it?” I asked. “That’s all you’re going to ask for?” 

Margo shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better going on,” she said. “I guess it’s as good an excuse as any to get out of the house.” 

*** 

I left Mom a note and we were in the car a short time later. “So where are we going?” Margo asked. 

“The hospital,” I said as we turned onto Burnt Hill. Margo raised both her eyebrows. “The maternity ward,” I continued. 

She snorted. “Who do you know in the maternity ward?” I didn’t answer immediately and she grinned. “I get it. Some ex-girlfriend of yours is there, right?” Margo leaned over, in best little-sister fashion. “How many babies you got floating around out there, Adam?” 

Even though I knew she was kidding, I got all worked up from that. We approached a stop sign and I applied the brake a lot harder than I meant to do. Margo never wears her shoulder belt and so she nearly flew into the dash board. “What the fuck, Adam?” she swore as she righted herself. 

I shrugged. “Seatbelt check,” I joked. She scowled at me, assuming my reaction was just a comment on her teasing, and put her seatbelt on properly. 

We pulled into the parking lot before Margo spoke again. “So _why_ are we here exactly?” 

I took a deep breath and she watched me carefully. “We’re going to visit Tiffany and her new baby.” 

“Tiffany?” Margo repeated. “Your ex-girlfriend, Tiffany?” I nodded and she looked away. I thought maybe she was regretting her earlier jest, but instead she just shook her head in disgust. “You can’t go up to visit a new baby without bringing a gift.” 

I realized she was probably right. “Well, what do you get for a baby?” 

Margo rolled her eyes. “Toys. Or tiny little baby clothes.” I sighed and turned the car back around. 

A quick stop in the baby store later, we were back at the hospital. Margo and I went inside and checked with the information desk and then headed up to the fourth floor. We had to sign in before we were allowed to even enter the ward. Margo held the gift—a little Red Sox uniform and a small toy—in a gift bag. “Why did you want me to come with?” she asked in a whisper. 

I hushed her. “There’s Tiffany’s room.” 

The door was closed and I knocked, feeling a sense of dread come over me, and it didn’t go away too quickly. Tiff’s mom opened the door, and she didn’t look happy to see me. “Adam?” she asked, as if she really couldn’t believe I was standing in the doorway in the maternity ward at the hospital. I almost couldn’t believe it either. 

I came in, even though she really hadn’t invited me to do so. Margo trailed behind me, turning shy. It’s not really her nature, but she has moments like this. I actually like her better when she’s not talking, anyway. “Hey, Tiffany,” I said. 

Tiff was sitting in bed. She kinda looked like hell. Her hair was greasy and hung on her head; she wasn’t wearing any makeup and her only clothing was a hospital gown and a pair of slippers. But she smiled when she saw me and beckoned me nearer. “Adam. I’m so glad you came!” She reached forward and I went ahead and gave her a hug. She’d put on weight in her face, but she didn’t look one bit different when she was smiling. Tiff noticed that I’d brought someone with me, but she didn’t seem put out at all. “Hi, Margo,” she added with a waggle of her fingers. 

Margo waved back silently, taking in every sight. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her along,” I said. I was feeling a little better now that I’d actually seen Tiffany. “We were out running errands.” I looked around the room as well. There was one of those little bassinets that babies sleep in at the end of the room near the door, but no baby in it. Tiff’s sister Shannon had been seated by her feet on the bed, but now she joined Mrs. Kilbourne near the bassinet. Finally, I located the baby—Maria was sitting in an easy chair next to the bed, giving him a bottle. I couldn’t really see him because he was wrapped up in a blanket, but he was tiny. It was hard to believe that I’d ever been that small, even though I knew that I was much smaller at birth. 

Shannon gripped her mother’s arm. “Let’s go get some coffee,” she suggested. Mrs. Kilbourne didn’t look thrilled at the suggestion, but she grabbed her purse off a shelf and followed her daughter out the door. 

Margo inched closer to the chair, Maria and the baby. “I’ve never seen a baby that small before,” she said, feeling less shy now that the ‘adults’ had left. 

Maria smiled. “Cute, isn’t he?” Margo nodded. “The best thing about nephews,” she observed, “is that you get to cuddle them and feed them and spoil them. But when they poop or cry, you get to give them back to their mom.” 

“That sounds about right,” Tiff said. The baby popped the bottle back out of his mouth and I got a look at his face for the first time. He was wrinkly and not exactly attractive, and his tiny arms were pulled up near his face. But he opened his eyes and they were so blue it was almost startling. “Give me my kid,” Tiff continued to Maria. “It’s my turn for the cuddles.” Maria obliged, handing him over as gently as if he were made out of glass. Tiff received the baby like an old pro; I guess handling newborns comes instinctively for mothers. She threw a cloth on her shoulder and then put him on it, his stomach against chest and his head on her shoulder, and began rubbing his back. “Maria, why don’t you take Margo down to see the nursery? She’ll love it. It’s where all the babies whose moms are sleeping get taken. There’s usually at least five of them in there, all in a row.” 

Maria scowled; she knew she was being dismissed and she clearly disliked the idea. Margo didn’t seem to notice; she looked over at Maria enthusiastically. “Okay,” Maria finally consented. She grabbed her purse off the chair she’d been sitting in and Margo followed her eagerly. 

They didn’t wait until they left the room to start talking. “You used to date Nick, didn’t you?” Margo asked. Maria nodded. “Can I just ask you one question?” she continued as they left the room. “Why?” We didn’t get to hear Maria’s response. 

I took the chair Maria had vacated and turned it so it was facing Tiff and her son. She continued to rub his back for a while before pulling him away, satisfied. “He’s a good burper already,” she said, smiling at me. I returned the smile, but mine was much more subdued than hers. “Oh,” Tiffany said. “I need to make a proper introduction. Come over here, please.” She patted a spot next to her on the bed, much like Byron had done earlier. I rose from the chair and sat right next to her. She turned to me a little so that I had a good look at the blanket covered creature in her arms. “Adam Pike, I’d like you to meet Adam Carey Kilbourne.” 

I looked at him—Adam—for a moment and then back at Tiffany. “Adam Carey?” I asked. 

“Carey is my mother’s maiden name,” she explained. 

I shook my head. “I’m more stuck on the Adam part,” I admitted. 

“I had a hard time picking out a name,” she said. “I joined this online support group for teen moms, and all the girls were naming their kids all this trendy stuff, or making up names like JaQua’reon. I didn’t want to do that. I decided I wanted my son’s name to have meaning and substance.” I nodded and she went on. “I couldn’t think of anything better than naming him after someone.” 

“I was named after my grandfather,” I observed. 

“Were you? That makes it even better, then. See,” Tiffany looked very serious as she spoke. “Eric, my ex, isn’t really interested in the baby. He’s denying this is his son.” She looked down at the baby, who had closed his blue eyes and gone to sleep. “We’re going to have to take him to court, get a DNA test and then, maybe, he’ll pay child support. But I doubt he’s going to want to share custody or even have visitation. It’s his loss,” she said, looking sad and angry for a moment, “but even more so, it’s my son’s. My dad hasn’t really been in my life for the past so many years, and that’s been rough for me and I’m a girl. But I think boys really need men in their lives. Role models.” She sighed and cuddled the baby to her face for a moment, kissing his tiny forehead. “I’m not asking you for anything. But I wanted to name him after a strong male role model. You were the closest thing I had.” 

I looked back at that little boy she was holding in her arms, less than twenty-four hours old. Hard to believe someday he’d be walking and talking and going to school and dating girls. That’s probably what made me say what I said next. “Someday, when he’s old enough to want to do boy things that you don’t like to do—camping and fishing or building go-karts or whatever it may be—you call me and I’ll come. Anytime.” 

Tiff smiled, although I think she knew the chances of that happening were small. “What if he’s got questions that a mom just can’t answer?” 

“Have him call me. I’m not saying I have all—or any—of the answers, but I’ll try.” 

The baby—Adam—shifted slightly and yawned. “Do you want to hold him?” Tiffany asked. 

I grimaced. “I’d probably drop him on his head,” I said. 

She grinned. “You’re chicken.” 

I wasn’t about to take that. “Okay, hand him over,” I ordered. 

Tiff shifted toward me and then stopped. “Oh, wait. First, go wash your hands. No offense, but newborns have very little immunity. I know he needs to build it up sometime, but we’ll wait a couple weeks.” I obliged and came back to the bed with freshly dried hands. “Okay, put one hand under his neck. That’s good. And then cradle him in the other arm. Good! It’s not so hard, see?” 

I shifted him into the crook of my elbow, like Tiff had been holding him. I wasn’t as good at it as she was, but he relaxed into me like he belonged there. “Hello, Adam,” I said as his eyelids fluttered and he moved his mouth a little. “I’m a friend of your mommy’s. If you ever need anything, you let me know.” Looking at his little face—he didn’t seem so unattractive anymore; in fact, he was kind of cute—I knew that if he or Tiff ever called and needed me, I wouldn’t turn them down. 

I was still holding Adam, sitting next to Tiff on her bed, when Maria and Margo came back. “Guess what, Adam,” Margo said gleefully. “We got to watch one of the babies get a sponge bath. It was a boy, and they’d just circumcised him.” I winced on the baby’s behalf, because I’d read about how that was done. Margo barreled on. “Everything was really red and it really looked like it hurt.” 

“On that lovely thought,” I said, for I could see Tiff making a face, “we really should be going.” 

“Wait, Adam,” Margo said, now looking annoyed. “You didn’t give Tiffany the gift yet.” 

“You didn’t have to bring me something!” Tiff cried. I looked over at Margo and smiled; she’d won me all kinds of brownie points. Margo brought the gift over and Tiff opened it. “Oh, look, Maria!” she said, holding up the Red Sox outfit. “How cute is that! And it’s a three month size! Thanks, you two. Everyone else bought newborn clothes, and they grow out of those so quick. Now my little Adam can grow up to be a Red Sox fan, too.” She set the gift aside and I leaned over toward her. She reached out and took Adam back from me. I ran one finger down his arm and looked at his tiny little fingers and Tiff smiled. “Thank you both so much for coming to visit. It means a whole lot.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Take care, Tiff.” 

“You, too. Expect a lot more emails from me now.” 

“I look forward to that.” I got back up from the bed. Margo was waiting for me in the doorway, but Maria was hovering in the vicinity of the bassinet. “See ya later, Maria,” I called. She smiled at me as I walked by. 

I paused just after I closed the hospital room door behind us. Tiff had said she’d named Adam after me because I was the closest thing to a male role model he had. I shook my head. Heaven help the poor boy if I was going to be the best man in his life. 

Margo and I walked silently for a while. We were nearly out of the hospital before she made the comment I’d been waiting for. “She named her baby after you?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. 

“Yup. Apparently, I’m the best guy she knows.” 

Margo shook her head. “That’s pretty pathetic. She needs to go out and meet some more men.” 

“Seriously. In fact, she should get on that tonight.” Margo’s face crinkled into a beautiful smile. I’d forgotten how nice it was when she was smiling. We headed into the parking lot and found the Civic. I unlocked the driver’s door (manually, of course) and then stopped before reaching over to unlock Margo’s door. “Thank you, by the way,” I said, looking at her over the car. 

“For _what_?” Margo demanded, looking confused. 

I took a deep breath. “For not asking if that was my kid, that’s what.” 

Margo dismissed that with the wave of a hand and a sound effect. “Pfft. There’s no way you could keep a secret like that in _this_ family. Someone would have found out, and then Claire would have found out, and then the whole world would have found out.” 

I felt myself relax. “That is…completely true,” I observed. I finally unlocked Margo’s door and she got in. 

*** 

We stopped for hot fudge milkshakes on the way home. Margo didn’t mention it, but I hadn’t forgotten. She took hers gratefully, even saying thank you, and we sipped quietly in the parking lot for a while before I drove off. It was really kind of odd to be in the parking lot, heat blasting, wearing gloves while drinking milkshakes with my sister, but I didn’t comment on it. Instead I asked her, “What’s been bothering you the past few weeks?” 

Margo scowled. “Like you haven’t heard by now.” 

“I heard something, but I don’t think it’s the whole story, or even the right story. So why don’t you tell it to me?” 

She watched me for a moment and then, realizing I was completely earnest, began relaying the story. Byron’s version, repeated to me by Jordan, turned out to be pretty accurate after all. “So now,” she concluded after a drawn-out sigh, “I have no boyfriend and no best friend and I don’t know what to do next.” 

“I just have one question,” I told her. Margo nodded, her face otherwise a blank slate. “I understand why Chris is mad at you, and I hope you understand why he is too.” I didn’t wait for her to answer that. “But why is Karen upset? Did this all happen on her bed or something?” 

Margo made a face and I could tell that I’d found the real problem. “I don’t know,” she said, looking irritated. I put my milkshake down and crossed my arms in front of me, Dad-style. “Oh, okay,” she finally said quietly. “Karen and I both liked Chris. We decided to kinda group-flirt with him and see if he liked either one of us. He picked me, so she was kinda jealous, but she pretended that it was okay and she didn’t mind.” She took a big sip from her drink. “But I really liked David Michael last year. We’d go to Karen’s house more when she was at her dad’s than when she was at her mom’s. Karen decided…” Margo faded out for a moment, but then decided to go through with her statement despite any misgivings. “Karen decided that I never really liked Chris and I was just using him to make David Michael jealous, or something like that. She felt like I ‘took’ Chris from her for a selfish reason.” 

I thought that over. I’ve never claimed to be an expert in the female brain, but I’d actually followed Karen’s logic. It made sense…from a certain warped point of view. “Okay,” I said. 

Margo took that to be my equivalent of Byron’s ‘I see.’ “I don’t know what to do next,” she said, turning whiny. “I asked Byron for help, but he basically just told me to stop being a bitch.” 

I raised my eyebrows; that wasn’t something I could actually picture Byron saying. “The problem with going to Byron for help,” I noted, “is that there are certain areas where he’s very useful, and others in which he’s a total dud.” Margo leaned in over her cup and took a deep drink, watching me over the top. “There are some things Byron has no experience in, and I don’t just mean straight-people stuff.” 

“What do you mean, then?” 

“Guess how many times Byron’s had a drink in his whole life.” Margo shrugged, indicating she had no intention of ever actually guessing. “Twice. And one of those times, he had so little that I’m surprised he could even taste it. He’s never been drunk and I don’t think he ever will be.” I picked my drink back up and sucked some back. “You want an expert in stupid drunken behavior in this family, you have to come to me.” 

“Well, what should I do now?” she asked. I could see she was taking what I said seriously. 

“That depends,” I said as I put the car back into gear. “What is your ultimate goal here? Be realistic.” 

Margo looked out the window for a moment. “I want Karen back,” she said finally, “and I want all the kids at school to stop looking at me like I’m a slut.” 

I sighed. “If you want an expert in sluttiness in this family,” I muttered under my breath, “you’ll need to talk to Jordan.” 

“What?” Margo asked. I shook my head, not sure if she wanted me to repeat what I’d said or explain it. Not for the first time, I wondered why when a guy is sleeping with multiple girls, he’s considered a stud and revered for it, but when a girl is sleeping with multiple guys, she’s a slut and reviled. 

I stopped at a stop sign before I spoke again. “I think you just need to prove to Karen that she’s wrong. Show her she’s important to you and that no boy could ever come between you again.” Margo nodded like I’d said something meaningful, even though I’d been extremely vague. “As for the rest of the world thinking you’re a slut? Fuck ‘em. If you pretend that you don’t give a shit what they think, they’ll stop thinking about you entirely.” 

“I don’t want that either, though,” Margo complained with a sigh. 

“Like I said, Margo, you have to be realistic. You’re not going to magically go from being the class slut to be the class sweetheart overnight. Once they stop talking about this and find some other sap to make fun of, you can go about winning them all back.” 

By the time we got back to the house, both Mom and Dad’s cars were in the driveway. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with Karen?” I asked. 

She grimaced and then shook her head. “But maybe I can talk to Rosie and Betsy and we can figure something out.” She opened the car door but didn’t move, despite the cold breeze whipping in. It was getting ready to snow again. “At least they’re still my friends.” I opened my door as well, hoping to get into the nice, warm house, but Margo stopped me with a hand to my arm. “Adam, thanks.” 

“Thank you for coming with me this evening.” Margo gave me a shy smile and hurried ahead of me into the house. 

*** 

Other than Byron and Jordan, everyone was home for dinner that night. Mom had made a giant pot of spaghetti, the one food generally everyone will eat. But most of the family didn’t seem to want to eat. Vanessa, home from the library, was in bed with a pillow on her head and a heating pad on her middle. “I’m not getting out of bed,” she called when Mom told her it was time to eat. “I have the worst cramps.” 

Claire was likewise not in the mood to join us at the dinner table. “I had three Twinkies about an hour ago,” she said. “I’m not hungry, and watching you eat might make me barf.” 

Mom was starting to look downcast. “I’m sure you’ve got some plans tonight, don’t you?” she asked me. 

I shook my head. “I’m free for dinner, and I’m sure Margo is too. And isn’t Nick home somewhere? I bet he’s hungry.” 

Dinner was actually not that bad. Byron came home just as we were cleaning up, and even though he had just eaten with his friends, he grabbed a big old bowl of spaghetti and sat down at the kitchen table. “How do you stay so skinny when you eat so much?” Margo asked him. 

He eyed her cautiously for a moment, trying to decide whether she was teasing or being cruel. “Good metabolism and a lot of luck,” he said, his mouth full. Byron finished chewing and swallowed. “Actually, I put on ten of the freshman fifteen so far this year.” 

“Yeah, so I did I,” I said as Nick and Margo loaded the dishwasher, “but mine is a beer belly. You look like you put on some muscle.” 

He shrugged and looked back down at his pasta. After a minute our siblings left and he turned to me. “Did you make it out to the hospital?” he asked in a low voice, mindful that nothing said in our house was ever really private. I nodded but didn’t say a word. Byron knew not to push, so he tried to find something innocuous to ask. “So what did she name him?” 

Even though I’d already had a milkshake and dinner, I picked up a piece of garlic bread and sat down with him. I took a big bite and chewed for a while before I answered. “She named him Adam.” 

Byron smiled. “Good choice,” he said quietly. 

*** 

Byron and I were sitting in the living room just before eleven when we heard voices on the front stoop. Vanessa was still in bed with cramps, while Nick and Margo were upstairs doing homework, and Claire was working on something for art club. “I think Jordan’s home,” Byron said unnecessarily. 

I walked over to the front window and peeked out. It had started snowing, but Jordan and Haley were standing on the walkway. He had one arm up over her head and was twirling her around and around. “Looks like Haley enjoyed her dance lesson,” I observed. 

“I knew she would.” The door opened then and Jordan held it as Haley walked through. “Hay!” Byron exclaimed. “Didn’t think I’d see you tonight. Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks!” she replied. Her cheeks were rosy, but not just from the cold. She accepted a hug from Byron, who slid a small package into her coat pocket. “I wasn’t going to be by tonight, but I had a few minutes before curfew—my parents raised it a little for school nights—and I wanted to walk Jordan home.” 

Jordan looked over to her from where he was still standing in the doorway, just inside the closed door. While Haley was smiling and perky, he was much more serious. “Only problem is, you still need to get home,” he noted. 

“Yes, but now _you_ can walk _me_ home,” she said, tugging on his jacket. He opened the door again. “See you two later,” she called to Byron and me. I gave a little half wave and Byron sat back on the arm of the couch. 

After the door closed behind them, Byron turned back to me. “She seems a lot less upset about him leaving than she was last time,” he said. 

I shook my head, not nearly as interested in this topic as he was. “Maybe reality hasn’t hit her yet.” 

“I think it’s more than that,” Byron said. “I don’t know what happened, but she doesn’t seem to be worried that he’s going to find someone else anymore.” 

“Hmm,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t pick up steam. He noticed my lack of enthusiasm and changed directions, asking for school anecdotes. A few minutes passed as I explained how Archer had started campaigning on my behalf with the Trip-Ep girls. I told him I didn’t want his castoffs and would pass up on any girl he’d slept with or rejected for any reason. He’d basically told me that didn’t leave any girls on campus. 

Byron was shaking his head in disbelief when the front door opened again. Jordan entered again, slumped and slouched the way Byron usually was. Byron, being Mr. Sensitive, looked concerned. “Everything okay?” 

Jordan shook his head and walked by us, taking his coat to the mudroom. When he returned, he was wiping one hand at his eyes, which were red. I looked over at Byron and cocked my head. He looked back at me, frowning. Here Jordan went again—getting all teary-eyed over a girl. Despite how easily Byron cried over everything, he seemed to be a lot less maudlin over his relationship with Jeff than Jordan was in his relationship. “She didn’t dump you again, did she?” I asked. That was the last thing I wanted to deal with. 

“Adam!” Byron chided. I rolled my eyes at him. 

Jordan looked up after one last rub at his eye. “No, jackass,” he said, irritation clear in his expression. “This may be hard for you to understand, Adam, since you have the emotional depth of an earwig, but I love her. Leaving her sucks, every time.” 

“An earwig?” Byron asked, looking for an explanation. Jordan just shrugged, so Byron moved on from that thought and clapped him on the back. “Just think—it’s only four more months. Then you two have the whole summer together.” 

“Three months,” Jordan corrected. Byron and I both looked at him. “Haley’s spending her spring break with me.” 

I raised an eyebrow; a girl as prudish as Haley was actually going to go stay in Jordan’s dorm for a week? “Well, good,” I said, only a little sarcastically. “Maybe you can actually manage to coax her shirt off of her finally.” Jordan actually smiled a goofy, lopsided grin. I had the feeling after seeing that that the shirt was no longer a problem. Byron and I looked at each other and he smiled too, although his smile was more subtle, and that confirmed it for me. “You know what you need?” I said after a moment. “A nice drink. I have that bottle of Scotch I bought for Jeff that he obviously no longer has a need for. You and I can polish that off.” 

Jordan looked at me seriously. “Yeah, alright,” he said after a moment. 

“Byron? You want to join us?” 

He cocked his head to one side for a moment. “Fifty-fifty,” he said. “I’ll hang out with you guys, but I don’t want to drink.” 

“Fair enough,” I said. There was a time, not that long ago, that I never even would have mentioned in front of Byron that I had alcohol in my bedroom. He used to be the king of the narcs. 

Jordan grabbed some disposable plastic cups from the kitchen and I pulled the bottle of Scotch out from behind some stuff at the back of our closet. Byron sat on Jordan’s bed and watched us for a moment. “Oh, okay,” he said out of nowhere. “Pour me a little bit of that, too.” Jordan and I gaped at him. “I’m not saying I’ll drink it,” he said, “but at least I’ll feel more like part of the group.” 

“You’re always part of the group anyway,” Jordan told him, “even when you’re being your usual self.” 

When we all three had our drinks, I held my cup up. “Cheers!” My brothers and I crashed our cups together, and then Jordan and I downed our drinks like shots. Byron took a sip of his, blanched, and then just held the cup. We didn’t refill our cups right away, just put them aside, and Byron did the same, carefully setting his down on my desk. “Let’s talk about the kind of stuff that we wouldn’t want Mom and Dad to hear,” I said. “Like sex and drugs and…well, mostly sex.” Byron chuckled. “I want to hear more about this development in Jordan’s sex life.” 

“What’s to tell?” Jordan said. “If you’re looking for salacious details, you’re not going to get anything good here. It’s not like Haley and I made a porno or anything. She just finally figured out she can trust me and that I won’t take a removed shirt as an invitation to rip off her other clothes.” 

I thought about that for a moment. I tend to forget about Haley’s history with guys, because why do I want to dwell on that? “Well,” I said, realizing that was as much detail as I was going to get. “If it makes you happy, then that’s good.” 

“I have one more question,” Byron said. We both turned to him, surprised. “Did she take her shirt off, or did you?” 

Jordan looked at Byron for a moment. Byron shrugged, unassuming. Jordan knitted his eyebrows together. “She was wearing two layers,” he said. “She took off the first one and she let me take off the second. She’s the one who undid her bra.” Byron nodded. “Why? Last time we talked about this topic, you acted like you were going to throw up at the thought.” 

I laughed, although the two of them were deadly serious. “I’ve had a change of opinion on a lot of stuff this year,” Byron said. “One of those things is how I live on the fringe of everything. I don’t want to be so different anymore.” Jordan and I were both staring at him. “There are some things that I can’t change, so I’m working on the ones that I can. Like the stick that’s been jammed up my ass for the past so many years.” 

“Yeah,” I replied, almost seriously. “You have to get that stick out of your ass if you ever want to put anything else in there.” 

Instead of getting mad, like I expected, Byron laughed. “You know,” he said. “Jeff said about the same thing when I told him that.” 

I thought about that for a second. “Okay, now it’s _my_ turn to want to throw up,” I commented. 

Jordan had been watching this whole exchange, amused. “So you’re going to be the, um…receiver?” he said to Byron after a minute. 

Byron blushed. “That has not been decided yet,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“But it’s been discussed?” I asked. 

He looked away from both of us and picked his cup back up, although he had no intention of drinking it. “A little.” Jordan and I continued to stare at him and he continued to look at everything but us. “Okay,” he said after a minute. “Jeff and I decided to…how do I put this? Yeah. We decided to try…” He faded out again. 

We weren’t about to let him get away with it. “What?” Jordan asked, gently. 

Byron was bright red. “Phone sex,” he whispered. 

“What was that?” I asked, egging him on. “I couldn’t hear you.” Jordan elbowed me in the ribs. 

“Phone sex,” Byron repeated a moment later, slightly louder. “But I pretty much sucked at it. I wasn’t any good at describing anything, and I’m not really creative about that kind of stuff as yet.” He squeezed his cup, nearly spilling the Scotch, and then put it down. “It worked out okay, though, because we ended up having a talk about a lot of stuff. Like how we don’t need to plan and schedule everything in our lives.” 

“Because Jeff is just so into schedules and plans,” I joked. 

“Exactly.” 

I grabbed the bottle and refilled my cup and Jordan’s. “So what about you?” Byron said, turning back to me. 

“What about me?” 

“You were out pretty late last night.” 

“Yeah!” Jordan piped up. “Who were you with?” 

“Scott and I were out on a double date,” I said, vaguely. 

“Okay,” Jordan said lightly, “Unless you were whispering sweet nothings into Scott’s ear, that doesn’t really answer the question.” Byron snickered. 

I rolled my eyes at them both. “Do you guys remember Kelly Petracki?” I asked. 

Byron thought for a second. “Yeah, Kelly. She was always with Lynn DiCarlo, right?” 

“That’s her. She and Lynn are roommates at UConn now.” 

Jordan stared. “Kelly Petracki?” he repeated. 

“Yes, Jordan, Kelly.” I couldn’t understand his disbelieving tone of voice. “Do you need to clean out your ears?” 

“No, I heard you just fine,” he answered, not sounding miffed like I’d expected, but still surprised. “I’m just…well…I didn’t expect that she would go for you, that’s all.” 

“Why?” I asked. “She another one of those girls that you chased for years and couldn’t get?” 

“Nooo,” he said slowly. Both Byron and I were watching him closely. “She’s one of those girls I chased for a little while and then did get. Both her and Lynn.” 

Byron chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, right,” he said in recognition. “They’re _the_ Lynn and Kelly.” Jordan made a face. 

I had the feeling I was missing something. “What are we talking about here?” I asked, purposely leaving the question vague. 

Jordan shifted, a little uncomfortably. “Third base?” he said, phrasing it as a question rather than a statement. 

It was my turn to shake my head. “Well, there’s the answer to Annie’s question,” I muttered. 

“What?” I think both of them asked at the same time. 

I shook my head. “Nothing important.” The real question to me was whether I was going to keep seeing Kelly. I liked her okay—you could have a conversation with her, and we seemed compatible in other ways—but did I really want to boldly go where my brother had already gone before? I shifted the subject. “So you dated both Kelly and Lynn?” 

Byron answered on Jordan’s behalf. “At the same time.” Jordan gave him a disgusted face and Byron shrugged. If I couldn’t see it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed that Byron hadn’t actually drunk anything. 

“And how do you know that?” I asked Byron. 

He grinned. “I’m like Claire. I know all kinds of stuff that no one thinks I know. It’s what I get for being ‘quiet and observant.’” 

“Formerly quiet,” Jordan said, half fondly. “And just for the record, it’s called ‘eavesdropping,’ Byron.” 

“Not when you have the conversation right in front of me, it isn’t, _Jordan_ ,” Byron put heavy emphasis on the nomenclature. “It’s not my fault if you’re willing to have otherwise private conversations in my presence.” 

Jordan looked at him quietly for a moment, and, not finding an argument for that, grinned. “I am going to miss you two so bad when I leave tomorrow,” he said. 

Byron picked up his cup and actually took a small sip (although he grimaced once again afterward). In response, Jordan and I picked up our mostly-full cups and downed them again. “Not me,” I replied to Jordan’s earlier statement. “When I get back to Ohio, it will be out of sight, out of mind. Fully expect to not hear from me again for a couple months.” 

My brothers looked at each other. “My threat about the pitchforks still stands,” Byron commented. Jordan, who hadn’t to my knowledge heard Byron’s offer to come to Ohio and jab me with a pitchfork until I emailed him, laughed anyway. 

“I expect nothing less,” I told him.


	2. Two things I never thought I'd do on that Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here I am minding my own business, and then Claire just _has_ to ruin my day.

ladiezman47: glad you’re back at school?  
ct_yankee_fan_00: sorta. i mean, i miss you guys and all, but ive been busy. practice.  
ladiezman47: wow. i don’t miss those days at all.  
ct_yankee_fan_00: oh, but Adam! baseball all day long. its awesome!  
ladiezman47: i can think something else i’d rather do all day long. only you don’t do it with eight other guys, if you know what i mean  
ct_yankee_fan_00: think i got it  
ladiezman47: although, i wouldn’t mind doing it with eight girls  
ct_yankee_fan_00: yeah okay, got the picture  
ladiezman47: and come to think of it, you do wind up all hot and sweaty afterward, just like baseball practice  
ct_yankee_fan_00: ADAM! STOP!

The whole thing started when Claire decided she wanted to look like a celebrity. 

Apparently, some girl at the middle school had been picked up by her seventeen year old brother in his car. Everyone else in Claire’s little circle had been mightily impressed by this. So Claire pointed out that she had not one but three eighteen year old brothers…and we were really cute. She decided she needed to show us off to her friends. 

She brought it up at dinner that night, much to my horror—and Byron’s. “You wouldn’t really have to do anything,” she’d pled. “Just see and be seen. Please?” 

Dad was serving himself mashed potatoes. “That doesn’t sound like too outrageous a request,” he said. That’s his way of making it clear that he expects us to follow through with whatever’s been asked. 

“No way.” I spoke up right away. Byron was hunched over his dinner, avoiding the whole conversation. Despite his insistence that he was trying to change his image, he didn’t seem that different. Especially at times like this. “I refuse to parade around like a piece of…man candy…for a bunch of middle school girls to ogle. And you really think Byron wants to be ‘hunk of the day’ at SMS?” 

Vanessa had a poetry book propped against her glass of milk, but she was following every word said at the table. “What if some of the boys are watching? How about then, Byron?” 

Everyone—except Margo, who snorted into her meatloaf—ignored Vanessa. “I don’t understand the problem, Adam,” Dad said, sounding slightly irritated. “No one’s asking you to be in a pageant or do a dance or anything. All you’re being asked to do is pick your sister up from school. Considering that your mother and I paid for the car, it’s not that big a stretch.” 

I sighed. “I’m _not_ doing it,” I repeated stubbornly. I was not about to be crush material for a bunch of prepubescent babies. 

Dad gave me a look, but then turned to an easier target. “Byron?” I knew he was hoping to goad his other son into doing what he wanted. 

Byron put down his fork. “What day, Claire?” he asked. He looked like he was asking when his execution was scheduled. 

“Tomorrow,” Claire said with certainty. Her tone of voice told me two things. First, she knew that Dad was going to win this argument in the end. Second, she’d already told her friends that her hot brother would be picking her up tomorrow. 

A look of relief washed across Byron’s face. “Can’t,” he said, much friendlier now. “Jeff’s calling. I wrote it on the calendar.” Byron and Jeff had taken to scheduling their phone time, because it was the only way to be assured the phone line would be free. Otherwise, they ran the risk of Claire having a marathon chat with Myriah or Margo speed talking, where she called Rosie, then Betsy, then Marilyn and then Rosie again, all in ten minutes. Or Nick talking to a girl, which Byron insisted was completely nauseating. 

Claire gave him her best pout. “Sorry, Claire,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll make it up to you some other way, I swear.” 

She turned her puppy-dog eyes to me. “No way,” I insisted. Unlike Byron, I didn’t feel like I owed Claire anything. 

“Okay,” Dad said with a gleam in his eyes, and now I knew that whatever he said next, I was going to end up picking up Claire from school. He’s not a lawyer for nothing. “I guess, if you’re not willing to pick up your sister up, then you don’t need the car for the evening, either. Vanessa, do you need the car tomorrow night?” 

Like I said, he got me. I had a date with Kelly that night. Her parents were going out of town and we were planning to take over the house for the night, just the two of us, and see where that went. I was kind of torn with Kelly. We got along well, and if we were still in high school, I would have called her my girlfriend. It was different now, though. I couldn’t see trying to do a long distance relationship with her. It was partly that I just didn’t need to call every girl I dated my girlfriend and partly that I knew this relationship wasn’t one that I needed to maintain over a long period of time. If it were up to me only, the two of us would see each other when we were in town and that would be it. But the problem with any relationship is that it’s not just up to me. 

In any case, I really did need the car tomorrow night. “Oh, alright,” I crabbed, reluctantly conceding the argument. Claire beamed and I threw her a dirty look. She switched gears, giving me an exaggerated version of my own expression. So when my parents weren’t looking, I gave her the finger. 

When dinner was over, I cornered Claire before she could scamper off to do whatever it is she does. “Look, Claire,” I said menacingly. “This is how this is going to go tomorrow. I will drive up to the parent pick-up lane. I will wave and honk. You will come straight to the car. I will not wait because someone is not there to see me. I will not drive around the school so you can show me off. I will not get out of the car.” 

She scowled. “You’re a real party pooper, Adam.” 

“Yeah, well,” I said as I walked off. “You’re the only person in the history of the universe to think so!” 

*** 

You know how, when you’re looking forward to something, time drags by? Like when you’re a little boy, waiting for your birthday party to start, that last two hours feels like two weeks. And by the same token, when you’re dreading something—a trip to the dentist, for example—those same two hours are over in a flash. That’s how it was that Friday, only it wasn’t just two hours. It was a whole day. 

During the day, when Mom and Dad are at work and the kids are at school, it’s oddly quiet in my house. It’s not something I’m used to. I find myself fighting the urge to fill the void with copious amounts of noise. Sometimes I turn up the stereo extra loud; other times I hunt Byron down and chat his ear off. 

I was doing the latter when the phone rang. Byron, who’d been doing that thing where he’s listening-but-not-really, already had the phone next to his elbow. “’Scuse me, Adam,” he said, in the middle of a thought (which told me that he was paying even less attention to my ramblings than I thought). He picked up the phone and answered. “Hello. Hey, Jeff.” 

Byron shot me a pointed glance, but he hadn’t really even needed to do that. I was already on my way out the door. I closed it behind me. I went to my own bedroom, which was empty and lonely. It wasn’t the same as last August, when I had avoided going in there because Jordan was gone. Sure, Jordan was gone again; he’d left just two days before. But it wasn’t about Jordan this time; it was about me. The room no longer felt like home in some ways. Most of the stuff that made it homey was now at school. The sheets on my bed weren’t my usual sheets, and my clothes were all thrown into two drawers instead of spread across a dresser and closet. Jordan’s desk was covered in girly crap because Margo had taken it over. 

I wandered from room to room for a while, looking for more evidence that I no longer belonged. The fridge in the kitchen, which Mom had always tried to ‘decorate’ with a fair balance of items related to all of us, didn’t mention me. There was a paper Nick had written for history class that had gotten 100 percent and a piece of Claire’s artwork. Margo was represented by a certificate she’d received for ‘most spirit,’ while Vanessa had cleared a spot. In the empty hole was a white piece of paper on which she had scrawled ‘THIS SPOT RESERVED FOR VANESSA’S ACCEPTANCE TO VASSAR,” in red Sharpie. I rolled my eyes when I saw that. 

Even the other ‘college kids’ were represented. Both Byron and Jordan had proudly hung their report cards; Byron’s boasted a 4.0, while Jordan had a 3.8. Even Mal, who wasn’t much for sharing, had an essay up there—admittedly one she’d written a couple years ago, in high school. I think Mom had expected that I would plop my grades next to my brothers’. I hadn’t done that because I didn’t want the rest of my family to see that 2.2 GPA and judge me. I was proud of the fact that, despite a really poor start, I’d managed to pass all my classes, but I didn’t think anyone else would be. 

I looked at my watch. School was almost out at SMS, and I needed to leave in short order. I sighed dramatically and went back upstairs to get my wallet. Even though it was out of my way, I walked by Nick and Byron’s room and pressed my ear to the door. Ever since Byron admitted that he and Jeff had tried phone sex, I’d been pretty curious what their phone conversations sounded like. 

It was pretty disappointing. “Yeah, I know,” Byron said. “Ever since Alizah started dating Toby, though, Paul’s been hanging out with us more. He wasn’t going to come camping next weekend, right? But now that Alizah decided to invite Toby along, he thinks he’ll come. So either she’s way more interesting now that someone else likes her, or there’s something Paul’s not telling me.” 

I don’t know what I was expecting. It was just regular, every day talk. In fact, he sounded a lot like Archer and me when we discuss the latest updates on ‘Annie Hood and her Many Men,' (as Meiner had taken to calling her.) 

I left Byron and Jeff and their gossip behind, almost reluctantly. Not because I cared about Paul and Alizah’s star-crossed maybe-romance (and yes, I had heard about that a little), but because leaving meant that I had to go pick up Claire at school. 

SMS was just like I remembered it; it hadn’t changed at all in five years. The bell was just about to ring as I pulled up to the line at the parent drop off and pick up lane. A moment later, a swarm of children emerged from every door. Packs began to form everywhere as kids found their friends and stopped for a chat. Instead of getting more nervous, like I’d expected, I got a little nostalgic for those days. 

I have all these pleasant memories from that building. There was the time that Scott and I convinced the substitute that Scott was deaf and I had to sign for him all through class. (I could only remember five or six signs, so I’d made a whole bunch up.) And the time when we were in eighth grade when a sixth grader got a crush on a terrified and bewildered Byron and started stalking him. She followed him everywhere between every class—until the time she accidentally followed him straight into the boys’ locker room. And what about the time that Jordan inadvertently started a food fight because he’d accidentally flung pudding all over one of the football players? Ahh, memories. 

Sitting there reminiscing, I suddenly realized I felt more at home at my old middle school than I did in my parents’ house. 

The line of cars started to move as the first parents in line found their children. I spotted Claire before she saw me. I was surprised to find that I recognized most of her friends from her childhood birthday parties. There was her best friend Myriah, whose parents didn’t like the lax rules at our house and wouldn’t let her come over any more; Claire had to go to Myriah’s instead. I saw Jamie and Nina, who’d been best friends, Byron-and-Haley style, since they were in kindergarten or so. Behind the two of them was our neighbor, Jenny, whose mother used to dress her up like a china doll. These days, she dressed all in black and had a green streak dyed in her hair. And there was Hunter, one of Claire’s oldest friends, standing just to the left of her. When she was in first grade, she’d said she was going to marry him some day. The only person in this group whom I didn’t recognize was the boy to Claire’s immediate right. 

I honked, as I promised, and after Claire’s friends were looking, I waved. Several of them recognized me as I’d recognized them and they waved back. Claire shouted over to another group of kids, and then pointed to the Civic. I suddenly realized she wasn’t doing the whole ‘I have hot big brothers’ thing to impress her friends; they already knew about my hotness. She had some kind of rivalry or one-upping going on with those other girls. 

I honked a second time and Claire stopped shouting. Instead, she grabbed the guy to her right and planted a full-on lip-lock on him. They were standing there making out for the whole school to see. Her hands were all over his butt, while one of his was on her breast. After a moment, they let each other go and she trudged down the street-salt crusted sidewalk to meet the car. 

I was a little stunned by what I’d just seen, so I didn’t immediately pull out of the drive-up lane. “What the hell was that?” I asked her. 

Claire looked confused. “I came straight to the car, just like I said,” she griped. 

“I’m talking about you and that boy.” 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m allowed to kiss my boyfriend, Adam,” she commented. 

“That was a little more than a kiss,” I accused. What was with my sisters? Vanessa lost her virginity before I lost mine. Margo was drunkenly making out with her boyfriend’s friends. And here was Claire, French kissing and groping a guy in front of her school. 

“You’re such a prude, Adam,” Claire responded with an eye roll. I finally put the car back into gear. “Like you never did the same when you were my age,” she continued. 

She had me there. I’d been in sixth grade when I’d first kissed a girl. In the span of about six months, I’d gone from ‘ew, gross’ regarding girls to ‘hello!’ I did a whole lot of experimenting with a couple of girls, going from holding hands to second base in record time. 

“What’s with my brothers?” Claire asked, echoing my thought from a minute before. “Byron blushes if you even say the word sex in his presence. Nick’s never touched a boob; I heard him tell his friend on the phone the other day. I don’t know what Jordan’s problem is, but he and Haley would probably be happy to just hold hands for the rest of their lives.” She laughed, looking a bit crazed. “And you? I bet you’re still a virgin, too. Mal and Vanessa are both having sex. Why aren’t you?” 

I didn’t want to point out that, with any luck, I’d have slept with three girls by this time tomorrow. That wasn’t any of her business, quite frankly. I was surprised that Claire was so far off about me, though. She’s usually dead on in her gossip about everyone and everything. She wasn’t too off target with Byron, although he was getting better, and I didn’t doubt what she said about Nick. I thought about her comment about Jordan and Haley’s chaste relationship and used that as a spring board. “Sex is a personal thing. Everyone chooses to go at their own speed.” It was true, even if it sounded like something Dad would say. (Damn. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, maybe Dad is right sometimes.) 

“Yeah, but…” Claire screwed up her mouth and made a face. “Everyone in this family is just so sexually…retarded.” 

“Claire!” 

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Politically Correct. You’re all sexually impaired.” She blew the bangs out of her eyes. She’d recently cut her hair, which had always been long, into a shorter bob with thick choppy bangs, and I could tell by the way she was always playing with them that she wasn’t used to it yet. “I mean, we’re teenagers! That’s when you’re supposed to experiment, right?” 

I pulled up to a stop sign; we live so close to the middle school that we were almost home. Instead of turning right on Burnt Hill to head home, I took a left and just kept driving. Claire didn’t seem to notice. “How much experimenting have _you_ been doing?” I asked. Honestly, by the way she was talking, I should have been more afraid to ask that question than I actually was. 

She gave a wicked expression. “I’ll trade,” she answered vaguely. 

“Trade?” 

Claire looked out the window for a minute. “I’ll give you information if you give me information.” 

Oh, we were going to play that game, were we? I’d gotten to be pretty skilled at lying, so I just accepted that. I could always just pawn her off with half-truths if I needed. “What’s the trade?” 

“I’ll tell you if I’ve done something…if you tell me when _you_ first did it.” 

“Fair enough,” I said with a shrug. I hung a left and started driving through a neighborhood I didn’t really recognize; it was of those that had sprung up in the last decade as Stoneybrook had grown from sleepy little cow-town into an actual suburb. “Have you ever smoked pot? I tried it for the first time when I was your age.” 

Claire looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you kidding? That stuff rots your brain. We have this whole group of idiot stoner kids at school. And you’ve seen Nick.” 

I had to smile at that last comment. “Okay. How about your first kiss?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Baby stuff. I was nine. You?” 

“Eleven.” The houses out here were massive and spread far apart; even though it was nicer than our neighborhood, I couldn’t help think how sad it was that these people had to really work to get to know their neighbors. “So I know you’ve been doing more than kissing. You ever…take your shirt off with a guy?” 

Claire started to smile; obviously she’d been hoping I would go this direction. “Duh, Adam,” she said. I grimaced, because I knew she was going to say that. “How about you?” 

“Duh, Claire,” I replied, equally sarcastically. She didn’t ask how old I was, so I didn’t tell her I’d been fifteen. The neighborhood we’d been driving around in looped back around to Burnt Hill, so I turned back onto it, distracted from the conversation for a while. 

We were quiet as we drove for a moment before Claire spoke again. “I’ve done more than that,” she said proudly. 

I was afraid of that. “What do you want, a medal?” I asked her. She grinned; part of being the baby of the family means that she’d quickly learned the importance of shock value. I really didn’t want to give in to her desire to make me shit my pants. “It’s not a race, Claire. You don’t win by being the first to do anything.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t win by being the last, either,” she said. “How’d you like to be last at everything?” She slumped down in her seat. It was obvious from the way she continued that we’d drifted away from sex for the moment. “The last one to walk and talk. The last one to go to school, to ride a bike.” Claire’s expression, what little I could see of it, was one of irritation. “Any time I do something awesome, it’s no big deal to the rest of you because someone’s already done it before or done it better. I won a citizenship award in second grade, but you got elected class president the same day, so no one cared. I got almost all As in third grade, but Byron had _all_ As, so no one cared. I wrote a poem that the teacher read out loud in fourth grade, but Vanessa’s always writing poetry, so—” 

“—So no one cared,” I interrupted her rant. “Look, Claire, I get it.” She put her head in her hands and I saw a gas station up ahead and pulled into it. I was worried that she was about to cry, something she hadn’t done since she’d outgrown tantrums. “No, Claire,” I said again, “I really do. We all feel that way sometimes in this family. Have you ever been there when Byron calls us the Pike Herd? Last time, he gave us all animal sound effects.” She looked up from her hands. “It’s hard enough to get attention in this family, and I can only imagine it’s way worse when you’re the youngest. You’re excited about something, but someone else always has something way bigger going on, and that’s what everyone looks at.” 

Claire nodded. “Right!” 

“Here’s what I figured out early on. I couldn’t out-Mallory Mal. I was never going to be more mature or responsible than she was. And I was never going to be super-brains like Byron is, or as big of a dumb jock as Jordan. I figured out what I was good at and I went for it. And what I was good at was conning people into thinking I was a leader. Hence, running for student council president.” 

“What if I don’t know what I’m good at?” 

“Then you don’t know what you’re good at _yet_. Keep looking.” She scowled. “You’re only thirteen, Claire. I may not know much, but I do know this. You can’t learn everything by doing; sometimes you have to learn from other people’s mistakes. And once you have a reputation for being easy, or slutty, or promiscuous or whatever, it’s hard to get rid of that. Ask Margo or Jordan, although he’s doing the best he can to go the opposite direction these days, like you so observantly pointed out.” 

Claire actually smiled briefly, but then she turned back to serious. “You said everyone goes at different speeds. What if I’m just super-fast speed or something?” 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do with your body, because that would be the pot calling the kettle black. I don’t want anyone else giving me that kind of advice. Just…I suggest you look at your motives. Do stuff with your boyfriend because the two of you want to do it, not just because you want to be the first of your friends to do it. That only gives you bragging rights until one of your friends turns around and does it, too.” 

I was speaking from my own experience on that one. I’d loved being the only triplet getting any action with the girls in middle school. Jordan started with girls not long after I did—maybe midway through sixth grade—but it took him longer to catch on than I needed. And then there was Byron, whom I’d thought was, in Claire’s words, “sexually impaired.” (At first I’d blamed the fact that he was a giant chicken-shit for his shyness with girls.) I’d teased the two of them for a long time about the fact that I’d gotten to second base while Jordan had barely come up to bat and Byron was still on the bench. But then, of course, sophomore year of high school, Jordan shifted into high gear and nearly hit a home run his first time. And hadn’t I heard an earful after that? It had made me wish that I’d been a little less of a braggart.

Claire seemed to be listening to me, but I wasn’t sure how seriously she was going to take my advice. “Trust me, Claire,” I said finally. “Take it from the only one of your brothers having any sex.” 

She lit up. “Ha! I _knew_ it,” she crowed. “I just don’t like to spread gossip I haven’t had confirmed from the horse’s mouth.” I pulled back out of the gas station and up to a stop sign, then threw her a pointed look. She needed to keep her end of the deal. “I’m not having sex with Tyler,” she finally admitted. 

I relaxed a little bit. “When did you start dating Tyler?” I asked her. “I thought that maybe you and Hunter were…” 

“Hunter?” she asked with a snort. “Well, he was my first kiss, but he told me afterwards that kissing is gross.” Claire looked reflective briefly. “I guess he just thought kissing me was gross. Or any girl, for that matter.” 

“Wait…” I was lost. “Are you telling me Hunter is gay?” 

“Yuppers,” she replied cheerfully. “Only don’t tell anyone. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person he’s ever told. I showed him that newspaper article, the one about Byron and Jeff at the prom? And he asked me if that meant Byron was gay, and when I said yes, he told me he was, too.” 

“That’s good that he felt like he could tell you that,” I observed. Hunter, at thirteen, was already a step ahead of Byron at seventeen. 

“Yeah, but it’s been really hard to keep that a secret. It’s been more than six months and I haven’t told anyone…” The sunniness went out of Claire’s expression as she realized what she just said. “…until you. Oops.” 

“Don’t worry. I’m not a gossip, unlike you. Hunter’s secret is safe with me.” She smiled again. “That’s your _thing_ , Claire.” 

“What is?” 

“This way you have of ferreting out the truth. Find a way to use that and suddenly you’re in a whole different arena than any of us have ever entered before.” I’d piqued her interest, and we were nearly home. “Have you thought about joining the school newspaper?” 

“That thing?” She practically spat the words out. “It’s so boring. No one ever reads it.” 

“Maybe you’re exactly what it needs so that it stops being boring. You could find the juicy scandals and print them. Claire Pike, investigative reporter, the SMS Woodward and Bernstein.” 

Claire looked at me, confused. “Who?” 

*** 

I don’t know what I expected when Claire and I got home. Maybe some peace and quiet; after all, it was Friday. Nick probably had a date, Byron should have been on the phone with Jeff, Vanessa had a standing tradition of heading to the Rosebud every Friday afternoon, and Margo was back at cheerleading practice. But when I came in, I was hit with a blast of warm air—which I had expected—and a blast of loud music—which I had not. “What’s going on in here?” I asked aloud. 

Claire was the only person to hear me. “I dunno,” she said, looking as confused as I felt, “but I think we’re about to find out.” 

The two of us walked through the kitchen to the living room and found art supplies everywhere. There were three girls with markers, making posters; I didn’t recognize any of them. One was a brunette with thick hair; one had short, light brown curls. The third had shaved her head bald. I turned to Claire. “Did we walk into the wrong house?” I asked her. 

She shook her head and pointed at the wall of photos my mom had put up. “Not unless we’ve stepped into some alternate dimension.” 

The brunette noticed us towering over her and looked up; I found I actually did recognize her. “Hi, Adam. Claire,” Charlotte Johanssen said. 

“What are you guys making?” I asked, instead of what I really wanted to ask, which was ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’ 

“Posters for the GSSA,” she answered, spelling out each letter: gee-ess-ess-ay. 

“What’s that?” Claire asked. 

The bald girl looked up from her poster. “The Gay-Straight Student Alliance.” 

Claire seemed surprised to see her. “Hey, Amanda,” she said. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the hair.” The girl, Amanda, frowned, but Claire went on. “You look good, though. This suits you.” 

“Want to help us with the posters?” Amanda asked Claire with a smile, pointing to a stack of unmarked poster board. 

“I can’t join the group,” Claire said. She’d obviously heard of this GSSA before. “It’s only at the high school.” 

“You can join next year, though,” Amanda pointed out. “And we can use all the help we can get.” 

“Can I invite Hunter over to help?” she asked, half to me, half to Amanda. 

I shrugged; there were already enough people in this house, apparently, that one more wouldn’t make a difference. “Hunter?” Amanda repeated. “Hunter Bruno?” 

“Yeah,” Claire enthused. “I think this is a cause that’s right up his alley.” She ran off to find the phone. 

I turned to Charlotte. “No offense to you guys, but are you with someone who actually lives here?” 

She chuckled. “Yeah, of course. Vanessa’s here…somewhere. And Byron’s upstairs with the GSSA’s new president. They’re in his room, I think? In any case, they were using his computer to search for ideas for the official wording of our charter.” 

I trudged upstairs, wondering how Byron had gotten involved in this. With the music playing loudly—the curly headed girl was singing along—and a bunch of strangers milling around the place, it was suspiciously like a party. 

The door to Nick and Byron’s room was open, and three people were inside. Vanessa and Haley’s friend Becca was sitting on Byron’s bed making her poster, while he had the laptop set on his desk. The only other person in the room was Haley, her butt popped onto Nick’s desk. “I heard you were up here with the president,” I boomed from the doorway. 

All three of them looked up. “That’s right,” Haley said proudly. “What can I do for you?” 

“You?” I asked rudely. “I’d demand a recount.” 

Becca watched me warily, her eyes flickering to both Haley and Byron. Byron rolled his eyes, but Haley smiled. She thought she had me all figured out. “The other guy already did,” she joked. “Did you need something, Adam?” 

“Yeah. Get these people out of my house.” 

“You mean your parents’ house, where they gave us permission to be?” Haley asked as she turned back to the computer. 

“Never mind, then.” She grinned, like she’d won some sort of victory over me. “Just tell me where Vanessa is.” 

It was Byron who answered me. “Vanessa? Isn’t she downstairs with the others?” I shook my head. He still had his eyes fixed on the laptop, but when I didn’t answer verbally, he got the message anyway. “She was downstairs with Charlotte, Savanna and Amanda before Bill and P showed up.” 

I thought over the people I’d seen in the house. “Well, Claire is down in the living room with Charlotte, Amanda and someone who I assume is Savanna. That is, unless P or Bill has boobs.” 

Becca spoke for the first time. “Bill said something about snacks,” she said, not looking up from the ‘male’ sign she was laboriously drawing on her poster. “Maybe the three of them went to go pick up something.” 

As if on cue, a male voice boomed loudly above the music. “I come bearing chips and more,” he hollered. 

“Sounds like Bill now,” Haley observed, unnecessarily. 

“I’ll go help him dish out the food,” Byron said, jumping up from his desk. 

“You mean, you’ll go eat some of the food,” Haley accused. 

“Maybe,” Byron acknowledged. “Becca, you said you were thirsty. Come with me and I’ll get you set up with something.” 

Becca rose from Byron’s bed and joined him on the trek to the kitchen. “Don’t go fancy on my account,” I heard her say. “Water from the tap will be just fine.” 

Haley had plopped down in Byron’s chair when he got out of it. She fiddled with the machine a bit and then removed a thumb drive, which she stuck in her pocket. I sat on Nick’s bed and watched her for a moment. She seemed to have forgotten I was there, but after a moment she turned around slowly. “Did you want something, Adam?” 

I spoke in a low voice, mindful that what I was about to say was not exactly politically correct. “Which members of your group are actually gay?” I asked. 

Haley laughed. “What?” 

“You must have at least one gay member in order to call yourselves the Gay-Straight Student Alliance. So which ones are gay?” 

“Does it really matter?” She asked me, more serious this time. “Yes, we have a couple gay members, and one who is bi. This isn’t the whole club; this is just the people who came to make signs for our first official meeting. But the whole point of this club is that we’re all the same, whether we’re gay, straight, transsexual or whatever. So, I’m not going to answer that.” Haley folded her arms across her middle and looked at me crossly. 

I held my hands up. “Okay, I get it.” I hadn’t thought of it that way; I was just being curious. 

Haley rubbed her stomach absentmindedly. “I’m hungry,” she proclaimed. “Knowing Bill, he probably bought enough food to feed everyone and the rest of your family, too. Wanna join me?” 

Not really, I thought, but I was trying to track down Vanessa and ask her why she volunteered our house for this very-unnecessary gathering, so we were heading the same direction. “Whatever,” I said with a shrug. 

We walked in silence, but it wasn’t a companionable silence like I find with my friends. It was awkward and stiff. I didn’t know what to say to her at all, though. Finally, I grasped at straws and small talk. “So, how’s the college search going?” 

I’d found the right topic. Haley beamed, reminding me of Claire for a moment. They both have overly expressive faces. “I got an acceptance letter from my first choice yesterday,” she announced. 

“Really? Where’s that?” 

She smirked. “It’s a secret. Not even my parents know where I’m going, and I’m not telling them until I’ve sent back all the forms.” 

Hmmm. Well, after hearing that, I was pretty sure I knew where she was headed. “It’s not far down south, is it?” I couldn’t think of a single reason why she wouldn’t tell her parents where she was headed unless she was following Jordan to the University of Florida. I could just imagine what would happen if one of my sisters decided where to go to college just by where their boyfriend went. 

“Maybe,” Haley said coyly, and I knew that was a yes. “I will tell you I was accepted into the cultural anthropology program.” 

We’d reached the kitchen. “And what the hell is that?” I asked. 

“The study of cultures and what makes them similar and distinctive.” She walked by Byron, who handed her a can of cherry soda. “I’m going to be a social scientist.”

“A social scientist?” Byron repeated dubiously. “As opposed to what you are now, which is a pain in my ass?” 

Haley grabbed a paper plate off the stack Byron had put out and smacked him in the arm with it. He grinned at her. She then loaded up her plate with veggies off a fruit and veggie tray. “Wow, Bill,” she said to a young man with a shaved head who was still unloading bags. “You bought enough to feed an army. How much do we owe you?” 

Bill shook his head. “Consider it my contribution to the GSSA,” he said. I bypassed Byron to grab a soda and Bill caught my eye. “Hi, I’m Bill,” he said genially. “You must be another one of Vanessa’s brothers, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, you’d be the other triplet—Adam, right?” 

“That’s right.” Bill finished setting out snacks and looked around for a receptacle for his plastic bags. I directed him to the plastic recycling with a gesture. “Are you a member of the club?” 

“Nope, I go to Stoneybrook Day school. I’m friends with P, and…” 

Bill was interrupted by the music turning way up on the stereo in the living room. I looked over, a little annoyed, but before I could respond, Charlotte and Amanda came into the kitchen. “Sorry, guys,” Charlotte announced. “Claire and Savanna turned the living room into an impromptu dance party.” She came over and stood next to me and Bill. 

Haley, who had been wolfing down snacks and talking with Byron, swallowed. “Please tell me they aren’t dancing all over the posters.” 

“We managed to move them out of the way before they really got going,” Amanda assured her. 

“I gotta check this out,” Haley said. She left her plate and walked out of the kitchen. Byron followed her. 

Bill turned to Charlotte. “Hey, baby,” he said to her, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. She grinned and picked up a cheese puff, which she fed him gently. Had Charlotte been one of my sisters, I would have made a comment about her behavior being vomit-inducing. 

Haley returned a moment later. “Hey, Char,” she called gleefully. “You gotta see this. They lured Becca over to the dark side.” 

Charlotte linked her hand through Bill’s and pulled him behind her. Amanda set her plate down and joined them. Reluctantly, I followed. I was running out of places where Vanessa might be hiding and I was beginning to suspect I knew where she was. 

Charlotte was right; dance party was a pretty good description of what was going on in the living room. Claire and Savanna were dancing together, trying to look sexy (and kinda failing…and not just because Claire is my little sister.) Becca was dancing near but not with them, off on her own rhythm. Claire’s friend Hunter was sitting on the computer desk watching them. Haley grabbed Byron’s hand. “Come dance with me!” she cried. 

He shook his head. “Trust me, Hay, you don’t want me to dance with you. I dance like a dork.” 

Haley rolled her eyes at him and instead went to dance with Becca. I nudged Byron as Bill pulled Charlotte out onto the ‘dance floor.’ “Whatever happened to this new Byron who wants to be more part of the group?” I asked him. 

“He still can’t dance,” he replied. 

I looked at Hunter on the other side of the room. He’s always been one of those kids who don’t talk much, sort of like Byron. He was watching the girls (and Bill) dancing, looking awkward and out of place. “Why don’t you go ask Hunter to dance?” I asked Byron, tipping my head toward the younger boy. 

“Hunter?” Byron repeated, looking confused. 

“Yeah. I think you two have a few things in common.” And not just their sexuality, I thought. 

Byron paused a moment, and I could see him steeling his reserves. He left the doorway and crossed the room. I saw him lean against the desk and speak to Hunter, who looked up at Byron like he was completely overwhelming. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but finally Byron held his hand out. Hunter smiled and took it and the two of them started dancing. (Byron was right. He _does_ dance like a dork.) 

I surveyed the room one last time. I knew what I needed to do, but before I had a chance to do it, I saw the door to Vanessa’s bedroom open and she and P slipped out, trying to be discreet. I’m pretty certain I was the only one to notice. I thought about taking her aside and having a conversation with her about it, but I quickly changed my mind. In the past week, I’d had conversations about sex and drinking and debauchery with two of my three younger sisters, and honestly, that was enough for me. Vanessa’s nearly an adult, and as far as I was concerned, if she wanted to slip off for some private time with her boyfriend, it was none of my business. 

Vanessa and P quickly joined the other dancers, his arms wrapped around her back. I looked over at Amanda, who was quietly watching everyone else. “Wanna dance?” I asked her. 

She looked at me for a moment. “Oh, alright,” she finally replied. I had the feeling the only reason she’d accepted was peer pressure—everyone else was doing it. Whatever her motive, the two of us joined the weirdest dance I’ve ever been party to. 

I didn’t think I’d ever say it, but I might actually miss my family when I leave this time.


	3. The True Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never thought that making such a small promise could lead to such a choice.

Byronp86: So you wound up having serious conversations with both Margo AND Claire? How did that happen?  
Ladiezman47: i have no idea, but i don’t like it. when did i turn into you?  
Byronp86: What?  
Ladiezman47: when did i become the brother our sisters go to when they need help with something?  
Byronp86: There’s a big difference between us still, Adam.  
Ladiezman47: if you’re talking about sex, you’re right.  
Byronp86: NO! What I mean is, you went and sought them out and tried to help them. I just let them come to me when they need help.  
Ladiezman47: i guess the solution is to stop talking to them all together. and i’ll just send them to you if they seek me out.  
Byronp86: Gee, thanks.

I woke up the first Monday I was back at college at 8:30 a.m. for a 9 a.m. class on the other side of campus. You’d think I’ve have grumbled about that, but I didn’t—well, not much. It was back to classes, parties and dinners with friends. Routines. School was my new normal. 

Colin, of course, was already up and out when I rolled out of bed. He and Caitlin hadn’t seen each other all break, so they were spending as much time together as they could now that they were back in the same town. It seems that Caitlin’s parents didn’t approve of their ‘darling princess’ dating. (Imagine if they knew that Colin and Caitlin spent about two nights a week in each other’s beds.) Colin had gone so far as to create a fake instant messenger profile under the name Colleen so the two of them could talk. 

Drama. See why I was so desperate to avoid a relationship? 

Kelly and I had parted on good terms. We’d both agreed to see other people while we were at school and then see where the summer found us. I’d sent her a brief message on IM the night before, but I wasn’t really good at keeping in touch long distance. Just ask Tiffany. 

Actually, Tiff and I were doing better now. She’d emailed me pictures of ‘Little Adam’ on his two-week birthday, and that made it a lot easier for me to remember to reply. I had so much more to say to “Look at these chubby cheeks” and “He’s already gained 5 oz.” than I did to “My ankles are swollen and I’m getting a C in history.” 

My first class of the semester was accounting II and, to my surprise, Annie was standing outside the classroom waiting for me when I arrived. “What are you doing here?” I asked suspiciously. 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m in this class, too.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Annie had pumped me for information about my spring schedule back in November, but she hadn’t mentioned we had any classes in common, so I’d assumed we didn’t. 

She shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” 

We meandered inside and found two seats together. After I sat down, Annie reached out and rubbed my face. “I can’t believe you still haven’t shaved yet,” she commented. 

“It’s called ‘willpower’ and ‘delayed gratification.’” 

“Delayed gratification is overrated,” Annie quipped. 

I didn’t reply to that. Annie had, over the past couple months, given me a taste of how my brothers must feel when they’re dealing with me. Every third comment out of her mouth is a sex joke. (That hadn’t stopped me from annoying my brothers the same way, though.) Realizing I wasn’t going to respond, Annie changed topics. Sorta. “How was your break? Did you do anything—or anyone—interesting?” 

I looked around. Ms. Crabtree was my instructor again and she didn’t put up with any nonsense—or gossip—in her class. She hadn’t arrived yet, so it was safe to answer. “I hooked up with an old friend. Nothing serious.” 

Annie watched me seriously for a moment, then went back to her regular jovial self. “Well, good. You were definitely due.” I just nodded. “As for me,” she continued as I laid out my calculator, workbook, pencils and notebook, “I met a new friend and an old friend. Actually, he was the guy I lost my virginity to when I was fifteen. I wanted to see if his technique had improved. It hadn’t.” 

Ms. Crabtree came in at that point and I shushed Annie. I was bound and determined get a 3.0 GPA this semester; then and only then would I post my grades on the fridge next to my brothers’. 

When class was over, Annie swept everything off her desk into a giant duffel bag that would have looked more at home in a gym than in a classroom. We walked out and I spotted a very familiar face lounging across the hall, leaning on a bulletin board. Her hair was different every time I saw her. Today, her tresses were bright blue and she’d twisted them into having the appearance of dreadlocks. “Hey there, TreyAnne,” I called across the hall. 

“Adam, baby,” TreyAnne yelled back. “How’s it hangin’?” 

“Real low,” I replied. 

Annie rolled her eyes. “You wish, Adam,” she grumbled. TreyAnne laughed. 

I ignored them both. “What are you doing here?” I asked. 

“I’m meeting Annie. We’re going to a step class to get all hot and sweaty.” She came over and linked one arm through mine. “You should join us.” 

I’d rather die than go to a step class, I thought. “Some other time. I have another class in ten minutes.” 

“Too bad,” TreyAnne said, sounding like she meant it. “Guess you and me will just have to find another way to turn up the heat, huh?” She leaned in and kissed my cheek, then let me go and headed down the hallway. “Coming, Annie?” 

“In a minute,” Annie replied. Her expression was fairly blank, but I could see something was annoying her. I waited for her to say something, but instead she just stood there until TreyAnne was out of sight. She gave me the most evil glare, probably hoping I’d be intimidated. Well, she underestimated me. I just stared right back at her until she gave up and followed her friend in the direction of the gym. 

What was with that? Both girls were acting really weird, but then again, TreyAnne was always weird. I couldn’t figure Annie out, though. 

I hurried on to my next class, which was something I’d been dreading. I’d heard that the political science classes were killer. Instead of lectures and homework assignments, it was a self-paced program. You went home and read the chapter and then came in and took the test during class time. Both Archer and Meiner had taken the class last semester, and Archer had barely scraped by in it because he’d put all the reading and tests off. Meiner, being better organized, had pointed out that you simply needed to take a test every other class period in order to finish on time. 

When I walked inside, the ‘professor’ explained the curriculum, handed out the paperwork, and then turned us over to the teaching assistants who would administer our tests. I went to greet my TA and found myself looking Petty Andrews in the eye. “Adam, how are you?” she asked, greeting me like she spoke to me every day. 

“Better now,” I murmured under my breath. She raised an eyebrow. “Good. I’m good,” I said, loud enough for her to hear. “How about yourself?” 

A group of other students gathered around us, so Petty said no more to me directly. She launched into a spiel about responsibility and accountability. We were all legally adults, Petty said, so no one was going to baby us. We were responsible for talking all our tests on our own and pacing ourselves. 

In other words, the speech was pretty boring. When she was done, Petty directed us to come to her if we needed help or had questions, gave us all her email and phone number, and sent us on our way. As everyone else stood to leave, Petty said, “Adam, can you hang out a second?” 

Other groups were still meeting, as the TAs went over suggestions on pacing and study tips; I’m sure Petty thought they were babying their students. In any case, she whisked me out the door into the vacant hallway. I followed nervously. "I feel like I owe you an apology,” she said. 

I went from nervous to bewildered in no time flat. “For what?” I inquired. 

“For that whole Ashley thing back in October.”

I’d almost forgotten about that. “Don’t mention it,” I said dismissively. 

“No, let me explain,” Petty insisted. I gave her a motion to go on. “I came down really hard on you. I thought a lot about what happened with that over break. I understand now that you were trying to build a rapport with Ashley so that you could become a positive influence.” I nodded. “I had a revelation about it: you can’t help someone who doesn’t want your help. And Ashley clearly did not want help.” 

I was at a loss. I couldn’t say I’d actually forgotten about what had happened, to be completely honest. It was more like it wasn’t a concern any more. I mean, I figured I’d lost my one shot to get on Petty’s good side and that was a bummer, but I had to admit that I didn’t even know her. Maybe if I did, I’d find out she was really, really annoying or something. 

Or maybe that was just what I was telling myself so that I wouldn’t worry about the situation. 

In either case, I didn’t know how to respond to what Petty was saying now. That didn’t seem to bother her, though. “I feel like that was the worst disaster of my presidency…so far,” she added. 

I patted her on the shoulder gingerly. I didn’t know where I stood, physically, with someone like Petty. She wasn’t a friend like Annie, where I could give her a hug and not have her read more into it than was intended. Even though I liked Petty and wanted to get to know her better, I didn’t really see our ‘relationship’ as me pursuing her with the intent of getting her into bed. If it happened, someday, it happened. “Why?” I asked her as I pulled my hand away. “You said it yourself: you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.” 

Petty smiled briefly. “I wasn’t talking about Ashley. I was talking about the way I treated you.” I felt a blush creep up onto my cheeks. “You were trying to be a good brother and help both me and Ashley out. I gave you an impossible task and no time to do it. And then I insulted you.” 

I grinned as I realized that Halloween hadn’t been the end of my opportunity; it was just the beginning. “Does this mean that you’re no longer going to make me your project?” I asked hopefully. 

Petty pulled her messenger bag over one shoulder. “Just the opposite,” she said as she started walking down the hallway. I stood still as she looked at me over her shoulder. “I see great potential in you, Adam. You’ll be hearing from me soon.” 

*** 

I wasn’t left dangling regarding the source of Annie’s mood for long. That evening, I was plugging away at the first accounting assignment and Colin was poring over his anatomy textbook when there was a knock on the door. “You expecting anyone?” he asked. 

I shook my head. “Nope. You?” 

Colin still didn’t have much of a social life, but I’d gotten to meet—and like—a few of his friends. “Nope,” he echoed, then slowly got to his feet. I returned to my workbook, as I’d been interrupted in the middle of a calculation, but I kept my ears open. “Hey, Annie,” I heard Colin say, “Come on in.” 

I grimaced momentarily. Annie never just pops in to ask a simple question; she always requires my full attention and stays awhile. Colin led her inside and before I had a chance to greet her, Annie spoke. “Adam, can I talk to you? In private?” 

I looked up from my homework. “I’m in the middle of something,” I told her. 

“It’s really important,” she said. Her voice took on a pleading quality. 

I tried not to sigh. It’s always really important with Annie. “Tell you what. I need five minutes to finish this part. If you wait in the lounge for me, I’ll take a dinner break. You and me can go to the cafeteria. Okay?” 

Annie looked like she wanted to argue with me, but she just nodded and headed out. Colin hadn’t gone back to his anatomy yet—he knows Annie can be distracting—and he whistled. “What’s that about?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “She’s upset about something. I don’t know what, but I have a feeling I’m not going to like this conversation.” 

And I was right about that. Annie was uncharacteristically reserved on the way out of the building. Usually, the two of us argue, playfully, about where we should eat or the fact that I eat too much. That night, Annie didn’t even speak until we left the building. After that, she just responded to my questions and left the conversation at that. 

But when we sat down with plates of food, she had a lot to say. “You can’t go out with TreyAnne,” Annie told me before I even brought the fork to my mouth. 

I lowered the silverware. If I’d been eating already, I probably would have choked. I didn’t know how to approach that declaration, but I decided to go with my old standby. “Why?” I asked, dripping sarcasm, “Is she really a man?” 

Annie ignored that. “I really need you to do this for me, Adam,” she insisted. 

I had pasta with sauce that was _supposed_ to be alfredo. I went ahead and took a big bite. The alfredo sauce tasted more like glue than anything edible. “You’re assuming an awful lot, Annie,” I said with my mouth full. “First, you’re assuming that I’d even want to date TreyAnne.” 

“Of course you would,” Annie replied irritably. “First off, she’s a girl and you’re a straight guy. Second, she’s built. Have you seen those boobs? Third, she’s very experienced and, from what I hear, she’s an excellent teacher.” She was eating a chicken burger, and from the look she gave it before she took another bite, it was as tasty as my alfredo. “She really should write a book.” 

I had to admit that Annie was right on point number two. TreyAnne had a very large chest, the type that bounced no matter how well she tried to strap it in. (For a moment, I almost wished I _had_ gone to step class.) And I had heard rumors about number three. I didn’t know any guys who had actually slept with her, not even Archer, but that didn’t stop the gossip from reaching my ears. “By your own logic, Annie,” I said, not looking up from my food. I didn’t want her to think I was giving any credence to her words. “Every guy should want you, too.” 

“Oh, they do,” Annie answered, and I couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking. It’s the kind of comment I would have made sarcastically but Archer would have said boastfully, without the slightest bit of modesty. 

I moved on from the comment without response. “Anyway, what problem would you have if I did decide to go out with TreyAnne? You can’t possibly be worried about crossing swords. With the two of you being so…outgoing…you were bound to eventually sleep with the same guy.” 

Annie put her burger down. She was a lot more serious about this whole subject than I’d ever seen her be about anything, especially sex. Annie always put a teasing edge on everything, so for her to be so glum concerned me. “I know,” she answered. 

I raised an eyebrow. “So why are you trying to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with?” 

She looked at her food without eating for a moment. “You’re not just anyone,” she muttered to her plate. 

That comment didn’t seem to follow my statement. “What?” I asked. 

Annie looked up. “I wouldn’t care if any of my other sex partners slept with TreyAnne,” she said. She put her elbows on either side of her place and put her head onto her fists. “But I also don’t consider any of my other hook ups to be my friends, either.” 

I took another bite of food. What does one say to a comment like that? Thank you? You can’t tell me what to do? Part of me wanted to be difficult and stubborn—you know, normal me—but at the same time, I was actually a little bit flattered. Annie has a lot of brothers and sisters among the Trip Eps and Kapps, and a few people she called her ‘girls,’ like Alexys. There were very few people she actually considered her friend. 

Annie took my silence as annoyance. “Look,” she said, lowering her pitch a little. She was just picking at her food, which wasn’t normal for her. “I know I have no right to even ask. But if you value our friendship at all, I need you to do this for me.” 

I looked up finally. I _did_ value Annie and our friendship. She was one of the few people, along with Meiner, that I truly trusted at school. She might be pesky and have a totally one track mind, but Annie was loyal and she understood me. I would have done just about anything for her. 

I’d never considered doing more than a little light flirting with TreyAnne. Every time we’d seen each other after we’d first met, she’d made jokes and I’d commented back, but it was nothing more than the type of ‘getting hot and sweaty’ exchange we’d had earlier. Annie was prone to that type of comment as well, and neither Annie nor I assumed that it was leading to more if she said something like that to me. So why did she think that my jests with TreyAnne meant that I wanted to sleep with her? 

I looked Annie up and down as she set aside half of her burger and began working on a salad instead. (As long as it wasn’t wilted, the lettuce in the salad bar was relatively safe to eat.) Other than the one comment she’d made that I wasn’t sure was a joke, she hadn’t played around. She wasn’t kidding when she said she said this was something she needed from me; I could see it in her eyes when she looked up at me questioningly. I still didn’t know why, but my sister—my friend—needed me. “Okay,” I answered, holding my hands up in defeat. “I won’t pursue anything with TreyAnne.” 

*** 

I had good intentions when I made that promise to Annie. I figured it wouldn’t be hard to keep, since I’d never looked at TreyAnne past wondering what her hair would be like next. But I’d forgotten the element of involvement with others that is always the most difficult to deal with: the fact that I’m not the only one involved. 

It was two days before I saw TreyAnne again. She showed up at my dorm room unannounced, much the same way Annie had. Only this time, I was snoozing with the door open. (The heat was cranked up far too high in the dorms. If I hadn’t had the door open, I would have roasted.) TreyAnne peeked through the doorway and then entered quietly. I was lying on my side with a blanket half-tossed over me, having a very vivid dream in which I was eating a roasted pig. I’d had that dream before, and I always wake up starving, with a craving for bacon. 

This time, I woke up completely differently. TreyAnne sat down beside me, her ass pushed up to the small of my back. In an instant, my dream changed from food porn to regular porn. I was unable to distinguish between the real touch of the girl who was just sitting beside me, not doing anything, and the girl in my dream (who was more like a centerfold from Playboy than any of the girls I’d met on campus.) 

It’s probably a good thing that Nathan next door started blasting his computer speakers at that moment. If I hadn’t startled awake, there’s no telling what kind of embarrassing dream sequence I might have tried to reenact with TreyAnne. Instead, I sat bolt upright, staring at her as if I’d never seen a girl on my bed before. (Sure, Annie was the only girl I’d actually fucked in my bed, but there had been a few others who’d obliged me with a make out.) “Hey, Adam,” TreyAnne said, as if sitting uninvited on the bed of a guy you barely know was not only socially acceptable, but completely normal. 

I rubbed my eyes blearily. “What’s going on?” I asked, confused and not exactly polite. 

TreyAnne didn’t appear to notice, but she didn’t exactly answer the question, either. “What are you doing this weekend?” she asked instead. 

I pulled my knees up in front of me. I was still…excited…from the dream and I figured it was the best way to hide it. “Um,” I began helpfully. I cleared my throat, returning my sleepy voice to normal. “I’m going to the movies with my roommate on Friday,” I said, “and I’m going to get ahead on my reading on Sunday.” 

“Well, what are you doing Saturday?” 

I thought about that. I didn’t have any plans as yet. Neither the Kapps nor the Trip Eps were hosting any events this weekend, and I hadn’t had a chance to see what else was going on. “I really don’t know,” I told her. “Why?” 

“I was wondering,” TreyAnne said. She turned so that she was sitting at the foot of my bed, and she pointed her boots at my bare toes. I knew the boots were Doc Martens, because that’s exactly what Vanessa always wears. “Did you want to maybe go out to dinner with me?” 

Oh. Now everything made sense. Annie hadn’t ever thought I was really interested in TreyAnne; instead, TreyAnne had probably told Annie that she was interested in _me_. I had given her just the opening she’d needed, too. “I don’t know,” I repeated. I was struggling to find some way out of this. “I’ll have to check with my frat before I commit to anything. I have a memory like a sieve for stuff like volunteer projects and mandatory meetings.” 

TreyAnne nodded. She isn’t in a sorority and, despite how close she and Annie had become, she was fairly disdainful of the whole Greek system. “Check into it and get back to me,” she said. She leaned in for another kiss on the cheek and suddenly I was very uncomfortable. The last time she’d done it, it had felt like a joke. This time, it was more like a preview. TreyAnne didn’t notice the change in my expression or demeanor. “See you later, Adam, baby.” 

She walked away and I jumped off the bed. I waited a short period of time before I closed the door behind her. I picked up the phone and called Meiner. “Lenny!” I said as I tried to calm down a bit. I couldn’t figure out why my heart was pounding. “You have to rescue me.” 

“Whoa, Pike,” he answered laconically. “Slow down. What the hell’s the matter?” 

“What are you doing Saturday night?” 

He paused for a moment. “Dunno. Contrary to popular belief, I do not have every minute of every day planned.” I had to crack a grin at that; it’s something that Archer says behind Lenny’s back all the time. “Before you go any farther and insist that I help you with whatever shenanigan you’ve gotten yourself into this time, I gotta know _why_ I am at your beck and call.” 

How to answer that? I went for generic. “Girl trouble.” 

Meiner laughed. “Say no more. What do you need me to do?” 

I sat back down on the bed. My heart was still beating too fast, but I was no longer frantic. It’s good to have friends who don’t demand every detail out of you. “Find me something to do Saturday night. I don’t even care if it’s reading to the homeless or feeding old people.” 

“Think you got that backwards there, Pike,” he said. I didn’t reply, so he went on. “Well, you can come over here. My roommate is out this weekend, and we can bum around until you decide to tell me all about this girl problem you’re having.” 

So much for Meiner not beating the details out of me. “Sounds good. Only…” 

“Only what?” 

“Can I tell the girl I’m reading to the homeless instead?” 

*** 

TreyAnne took the news of my Saturday night plans better than I expected. She just shrugged when I told her I was working at a soup kitchen that evening. Annie, who seemed to know that I’d turned TreyAnne down, was a lot more cheerful in class on Friday, but I was still uneasy. I didn’t think this was the end of things with the blue-haired vixen. 

I headed over to Meiner’s pretty early in the evening. Lenny had been drinking for most of the afternoon…or at least it seemed that way. In any case, he’d had enough alcohol that he didn’t remember his promise to weasel things out of me. I couldn’t really complain about that. 

He grinned when he saw me. “Still growing the beard. You almost look like a real mountain man by now.” I scowled; Meiner had been the one who had said, back in November, that he didn’t think I had enough testosterone to grow a beard. And yeah, for the first two weeks or so, it just looked like I’d forgotten to shave that day. Lenny grinned bigger when he saw my face. “No, not making fun. I want you to keep growing that beard…at least until the second week in February. That’s the week I bet on, you know.” 

We spent the early evening hours being immature boys—in other words, our usual selves. We played video games and told dirty, crass and sexist jokes. I learned a few things about Lenny that I hadn’t suspected…like the fact that he had more experience with girls than I did, but he was a lot more careful with the decision to have sex. (While I couldn’t exactly say I regretted any of the girls I’d been with, I wasn’t exactly proud of some of the circumstances, either.) 

I’d just ordered pizza when Archer showed up. “Hey, my brothers,” he said. 

I checked the clock. It was only eight p.m. “I thought you had a date tonight,” I said as Lenny paused the game. By that point, we’d degenerated from shooting games and were playing Mario Party on an ancient GameCube. 

“Yeah, I thought so, too. But I guess she wasn’t the right girl for me.” 

Meiner popped off the couch. “What makes you say that?” he asked. 

“She didn’t appreciate it when I reached for her butt during our ‘hello’ hug.” 

I looked at Lenny and we both laughed. “You’ve got a lot to learn about girls, Andy,” Meiner said with a shake of his head. 

Archer took Lenny’s seat on the bed. “Anyway, I decided that if I couldn’t fuck her, then fuck her. Know what I mean?” 

“Not at all,” Lenny joked. I grinned. 

“So I decided to call my man Pike, and his roomie told me he was over here, with my other man.” Archer was sounding even more off than Meiner had earlier. If I had to guess, I’d say he was high. “So I came on by. Care to explain what lead to the sausage bonding fest?” 

Lenny rolled over in his roommate’s rolling desk chair. “Adam’s trying to ditch a girl,” he said. 

“Oh, I get it.” Andy made a sympathetic face. It’s never good when he’s sympathizing with your situation, because it means you’re fucked. “You catch one of those clingy girls who doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘one-night stand?’” 

“That’s not a word, Archer,” Lenny corrected. “It’s a phrase.” 

“Our boy’s in need and you’re going to nitpick semantics?” Archer turned back to me, waiting for me to answer his question. I shook my head. “Too bad. That would have meant you actually got a girl.” I saw Meiner roll his eyes. 

“You should get together with Annie,” I quipped. “You’re both really concerned with my score card.” 

“Too blabby,” Archer said, wiping away thoughts of Annie with one hand. “So if she’s not clinger, then what’s a matter with this girl? Is she a troll or a mental case?” 

I thought about that for a moment. TreyAnne wasn’t actually bad to look at, and despite the fact that she lived by her own rules, she wasn’t stupid or crazy. “Nothing like that,” I said. 

“Well, what’s the fucking problem then, Pike? Does she not have a cootch or something?” 

I got up off the bed and popped onto the chair next to the television. “You really wouldn’t understand,” I told Archer. 

“Try me, bud,” he urged. 

“She’s a friend of Annie’s, and Annie asked me not to go out with her,” I finally admitted. 

Archer and Meiner looked at each other. “Which friend of Annie’s?” Meiner asked slowly. 

I shifted uncomfortably. “TreyAnne.” 

TreyAnne is like Cher or Elvis. You never need to mention a last name, but everyone knows exactly who you mean. “TreyAnne?” Archer repeated. “TreyAnne asked you out, and you turned her down? Why?” 

Meiner made a clucking noise. “Because Annie asked him to, Andy,” he explained. 

Andy tried to follow that logic. “So? I’d give my right hand for a night with TreyAnne.” He paused, as reflective as he ever gets. “Okay, maybe not my right hand. I need that one. But my point is, since when does Miss Bradford get to dictate your sex life, Adam? Or any of your other hookups, if you have any?” 

I didn’t acknowledge the last question. Archer had been trying to get me to admit exactly how many (or few) girls I’d slept with almost since the moment I’d met him. And like Meiner, I’d never given him a straight answer. I didn’t want to be like Jordan had been a couple years ago, when he’d actually kept a written list of the number of girls he’d gotten blow jobs from. (Jordan didn’t want to be that guy any more, either, since he’d torn the list up some time back and never referred to it again.) 

But I didn’t answer Archer’s other question right away, either. Lenny picked up my line of thought instead. “Archer, if I asked you not to sleep with a girl because I was really into her, you’d honor that, wouldn’t you?” Archer raised his eyebrow. “You wouldn’t go after Alexys, for example, right?” 

Archer nodded. “Alexys likes your scrawny, ugly bod, for some odd reason. I’d have to get her really drunk before she’d sleep with me anyway. Not worth the effort.” 

Lenny shook his head, but he was grinning. “And if Pike here asked you to stay away from a girl he was chasing, you’d do that, right?” 

Andy was starting to look annoyed. “We’re bros. Absolutely.” 

“Well, Adam and Annie are tight like that too. What’s there to understand?” 

Archer looked from Meiner to me and back to Meiner. “Okay, but you’re still not making sense, dude. I stay away from Alexys because you want to bump uglies with her…eventually. ‘When you’re ready.’” The last part was said more than a little mockingly. “Unless Annie turned into a lesbo while I wasn’t looking, she’s got no good reason to keep Adam from getting a little slice of TreyAnne.” 

I rolled my eyes as well. “Who cares why she asked?” I responded. I still wasn’t entirely sure why Annie had asked me to stay away from TreyAnne. “I respect her enough to follow through with it.” 

“Respect,” Archer scoffed. “Bros before hos, dudes. Bros before hos.” Lenny and I both shook our heads; no matter how much I might like girls and hooking up, I never felt the urge to call them ‘hos.’ That was the main difference between me and Archer. “Look, tell Annie you’ll do what she wants. Then just spend the night…or the weekend…with TreyAnne anyway.” 

Lenny stood up from his chair. “I’ll never understand you, Andy. You might get girls to sleep with you more than once if you didn’t treat them like that.” He lay on the floor and started digging around under his bed. 

Andy spoke up as our friend’s head disappeared under the bed. “There are enough girls in the world that I don’t need to sleep any girl twice. What’s the point?” 

Meiner reappeared from under the bed, a bottle in one hand. “We’re never going to agree on that one. So, how about this instead?” He held up a bottle of tequila. 

Archer nodded enthusiastically, but I shuddered. “Tequila and I do not get along,” I reminded them. 

Andy laughed a deep belly laugh, but Meiner just gave a knowing smile. “I remembered,” he said as he pulled out a six pack as well. 

I reached down and grabbed the beer. “To drinking enough that I forget about both Annie _and_ TreyAnne,” I toasted. 

“Now that,” Archer announced, “is something I can get behind.” 

*** 

My predictions about TreyAnne had been completely true. She didn’t stop bugging me just because I’d blown her off once. After the second time she asked me out, I stopped making up detailed excuses and just started saying I was busy. It occurred to me that someone like TreyAnne might not realized I was blowing her off unless I made it really obvious, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings any more than necessary. 

But it really didn’t help. She just got even sneakier. 

About a week after I’d told TreyAnne I was volunteering at the soup kitchen—I wasn’t even sure Athens _had_ a soup kitchen—she showed up at my dorm room again. Actually, I went to take a piss and when I came back, she was sitting at my desk. I knew I should have shut and locked the door when I left the room. I stopped in my tracks in surprise. “TreyAnne,” I started. I was starting to get irritated. “What are you doing here?” 

“What are you doing Friday night?” she asked me without even the slightest sign of realizing I was annoyed. I started to make up an excuse, but she cut me off. “And before you answer, know that I checked your fraternity’s website, and they aren’t hosting even a volunteer opportunity. And I checked the calendar you and your roommate have going, and you don’t have anything written down.” 

I went from mildly dismayed to completely put out. What exactly was she doing coming into my room uninvited and reading my personal communication? I clenched one hand in the other for a moment. I knew if I spoke right away, I’d say something nasty. But I also knew that if I let this go for too long, I’d keep stewing over it and wind up saying something nasty anyway. “TreyAnne,” I said after a moment. I chose my words carefully. “I can’t go out with you.” 

She looked shocked and I understood why, at least partly. A girl like TreyAnne wasn’t used to having people tell her no. “Is this about Annie?” she asked as a look of recognition washed across her face. “It is, isn’t it? Well, don’t worry about that. I know that for whatever warped reason, she didn’t want the two of us to hook up. But she doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell her.” I shook my head, but TreyAnne ignored that. “Let me tell you what I’ve got planned for you.” 

She didn’t even have to start explaining; I started considering. I felt like a giant cliché: I heard voices, one angelic, and the other devilish, trying to tell me what to do. I heard Archer’s voice first. “Dude, Pike, she said she’d keep it quiet! All you’d have to do is not tell Annie yourself and you’re in!” 

Then Meiner’s voice responded. “Adam wouldn’t do that. _He’d_ know what happened, and it would eat at him. He couldn’t betray Annie like that.” 

I shook my head, trying to clear my friends’ voices out of it. Lenny was right; I knew I couldn’t go out with TreyAnne and just not tell Annie about it. One look at my face and she’d know everything. I held my hands up. “Stop, TreyAnne,” I insisted. “I don’t want to hear it. I promised Annie I wouldn’t see you, and I won’t go back on my word.” 

TreyAnne crossed her arms in front of her body and stuck out one hip. She was wearing a low cut, tight shirt and when she did that, her chest visibly jiggled. I steeled my resolve; I wasn’t going to be distracted by a pair of tits. “This isn’t the end of this, Adam,” she hissed as she stalked out of my room. 

I let out a long, loud sigh. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep this up. Either she would wind up wearing me down, or I’d end up in a mental institution. 

*** 

The next morning, I met Annie outside our accounting class. She was wearing the same sweater she’d worn the night we’d spent together, without a coat. (Meiner likes to joke that Annie is actually an Inuit, and cold weather is in her blood. She rarely dresses appropriately for the weather and almost never seems bothered by the cold.) 

I, on the other hand, was wearing a down parka, gloves and a hat, and carrying an energy drink in each hand. “Double Shots?” Annie asked amiably. “Have a late night?” 

“More like a bad night,” I replied as I pulled off my gloves. I wasn’t going to be able to get my Shot open while wearing them. “I kept having this same nightmare over and over. I’m alone with a girl, and we’re getting it on. But then she turns into a praying mantis and devours me when we’re done.” 

Annie doubled over laughing. “Anyone I know?” she asked when she stood back up. 

I finally got my drink open and took a huge gulp. The over-caffeinated, over carbonated drink shot down my throat, burning the whole way. I shuddered. “Yup.” 

She shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other. “Well, don’t keep me hanging, Adam. Who was it?” I just gave her a look, with one raised eyebrow. “Oh,” she said as everything shifted into place for her. “Our favorite blue-haired maneater.” 

“Yup,” I repeated, more morose this time. “She is not taking a hint, Annie. She’s not taking me coming straight out and telling her it’s never going to happen, either.” Annie shook her head sympathetically, and the two of us walked into the classroom. “What I don’t get,” I continued as I took off my coat and hat and hung them on the back of my chair, “is why TreyAnne is suddenly interested in me now. I’m the same guy I was last semester, so why the change of opinion?” 

“Oh,” Annie said as she laid out her desk. A moment later, I joined her. “That’s something I can explain. TreyAnne can’t resist a beard. I hear she likes to tug them in the heat of things…right before she—” 

I cut her off. “That’s really not helping things, Annie,” I told her dryly. She shrugged, but she was grinning her head off. “Look, I never even thought about TreyAnne that way until you asked me not to go out with her. But now I’m having to dodge her left and right, and all I can think is how she’s supposed to be an experience. And I’m missing the experience, all thanks to you.” 

The grin faded as quickly as it had appeared. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you doing this for me, though,” Annie continued. “I definitely owe you, big time.” 

Ms. Crabtree had entered the room while we were talking, taking us by surprise. “Something you want to share with the class, Miss Bradford?” she asked lightly. That’s her usual cue for us to cut off personal chatter and pay attention. 

Too bad for her—I’m a smartass. “She was just telling me how excited she is about another riveting accounting adventure,” I replied with a completely straight face. 

Ms. Crabtree actually smiled. “Ah, Mr. Pike,” she said with a subtle shake of her head. “Things are never dull with you around.” 

*** 

Well, after that conversation, I knew there was only one thing to do. I took a test in political science, so that I could stay on target for being done on time. After that, I headed back to the dorms. Colin was in our room, studying a computer program about muscles or ligaments or some other body part. I gathered my supplies quietly, keen not to disturb him, and headed back out. 

I really hadn’t wanted to do this. We had bets lined up against my beard all the way through April. I planned to keep it until May first, so that all the profits went to charity. I might not be much for reading to the blind or manning the booth at the student activities fair at the high school or that kind of charity work, but I wanted to make sure I was doing my part. Getting rid of the beard now meant not looking as good to my brothers, but it was this or my sanity. 

It took me longer than I expected to shave everything off. When I got back to my room, Colin had closed his computer program. He was looking at a book called _Stupid History_ , just browsing through the pages. “Hey, Adam,” he said without looking up. “Did you want to go to lunch with me and Caitlin? We were thinking about going in about half an hour.” 

That would be good timing; I could get part of my accounting homework done. “Sounds great. Give me about five minutes warning before we need to leave.” 

Colin looked up, about to say something, but when he saw my face, he stopped speaking for a moment, slack jawed. “Adam!” he finally sputtered. “You shaved?” 

I rubbed my face, which was still a little raw. “Yeah. I decided I was ready to lop it all off.” 

He shook his head. “Didn’t you say on Thursday that you were going to wait until May?” I nodded. “What changed?” 

“It’s a long, stupid story,” I told him wearily. 

Colin quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve got time.” 

Instead of opening my accounting book, I turned around in my chair and told him everything. “So now I’m clean shaven, but I still have my pride,” I finished up. 

Colin shifted in his chair. He looked thoughtful. “You’re a good man, Adam,” he said after a moment. “Annie sure is lucky to have you, if you’re willing to do all this just for her.” 

I sighed. “Thanks,” I responded. Colin cocked his head subtly to one side, still watching me closely. “I just wish I knew why Annie was so adamant about this.” 

He smiled knowingly. “Women,” he said. “Sometimes, their minds are just completely unfathomable. Even Caitlin makes no sense sometimes.” I flashed a brief smile in return, thinking that I’d basically decided the same thing some time back. “You may just have to give up on that one.” 

I shook my head. “You may be right.” 

*** 

The true test of my sacrifice came later that evening. Colin was spending the night with Caitlin, so I was on my own. I’d finished my accounting homework and was reading my assignment in my most interesting class that semester: human sexuality. I’d closed the door to my room so that I could work without interruption, but as usual, it didn’t work. Someone knocked urgently at the door, but I ignored it. I was determined to finish the section I was reading before I got up. 

That would have worked on most people, but TreyAnne is not most people. Instead of assuming no one was home and leaving, she tested the door. When she found it unlocked, she just walked right in. I heard the door open and I knew who it must be. Who else would think such behavior was okay? “Breaking and entering now, TreyAnne?” I asked, not looking up from my book. 

I was sitting up against my pillows with my knees pulled up in front of me, the book rested on my knees. TreyAnne sat on Colin’s bed. “It’s not breaking and entering if the door’s unlocked,” she said, a smirk evident in her tone. “It’s just trespassing.” 

She still couldn’t see my face, so I rolled my eyes. “Still. Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners?” 

“I knocked, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to wait for someone to tell you to enter.” 

TreyAnne got off Colin’s bed and sat down next to my feet. “That’s overrated,” she said dismissively. “I figured that you were here alone, so it would be a good time to come over and prove to you that I’m not backing down.” 

“I’m studying, TreyAnne. I really need to have this read by tomorrow morning.” I flipped a page in the book to prove my point. 

I should have known that wasn’t going to work. TreyAnne just reached over and snatched the book out of my hands. I finally looked up, glaring at her. She was holding the book over my head gleefully when she got a look at me. Her face went through a range of emotions, but she didn’t say a word. I didn’t acknowledge any of it. “May I have my book back, please?” 

She lowered the book and I took it back, more gently than she’d stolen it from me. “Fine,” she said, her tone more hostile than teasing now. “I’ll bother you later.” 

I shook my head and opened my text back up. I was supposed to be reading chapter two, but it was opened to chapter nine. I ignored that fact. “I’m locking the door behind you,” I told her. 

She didn’t answer; she just left and slammed the door behind her. I didn’t actually get up and lock it, because her attitude told me she wouldn’t come back later that evening. I did, however, have another guest an hour later. The knock this time was much gentler; I almost didn’t hear it. By that time I’d finished my homework and was watching mindless television. (Colin had gotten me hooked on reruns of Unsolved Mysteries.) Since I wasn’t studying anymore, I didn’t mind being disturbed. “Come in,” I called. 

Annie practically tiptoed into the room. “Hiya, Adam,” she said, almost timidly. I looked up from the television. Timid is not exactly Annie’s usual style. “Can I talk to you?” 

“I’ve always got time for you,” I told her. I patted the bed next to me, and Annie curled up by my side. Generally, when she comes to hang out, she sits next to me, but with enough space between us where we could put our beers or a bowl of chips. This time, she practically had her head on my shoulder. It reminded me so much of the way Byron and Haley sit together some times. I followed Byron-style instinct and put my arm around her. “Everything okay?” 

She reached out one hand and patted my bare cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. 

“For what?” 

“For everything that’s gone on with TreyAnne.” She shifted so that she could look me in the eyes. “She came and told me that you’d shaved. I know you did that for me.” 

I didn’t reply for a moment. I watched as they updated one of the fifteen year old cases that were airing on screen. Finally, I turned back to Annie. “You’re one of my best friends. You’d do the same for me, right?” 

She nodded and actually put her head on my shoulder this time. “I was just afraid that if you got together with TreyAnne, the two of you would start spending all your time together, and I’d lose my two best friends.” 

Now everything made sense. I still failed to follow her logic, but at least her actions had a reason. “You crazy female,” I said with a shake of my head. Annie grinned. I wasn’t sure I had the whole story, but like Colin said, I might have to just accept that I’d never really understand women. 

*** 

I’d thought that was the end of things until half a week later. I went to accounting, where Annie was back to her usual self: I got to hear all about the guy she was going to try to sink her claws into that weekend. I’d left there shaking my head and headed to poli sci to take another test. I was a few minutes early and the teacher and most of the TAs hadn’t arrived yet. Petty was there, though, and she smiled as she saw me come in. “Hi, Adam,” Petty greeted me, watching as I set my things down at one of the desks. “When did you shave?” she added. 

“Monday,” I told her as I stowed my bag under the desk. I laid my pen down on the desk and walked over to her table. She pulled out her laptop and opened the database where she kept track of what tests each of her students had passed. “I thought it was time for a change,” I added. 

Petty pulled out a test from her file and handed it to me. “I heard a rumor,” she said as I started back to my desk. 

We were still the only two in the room. “A rumor?” I repeated. 

Petty organized her things as she spoke. “Yes,” she answered. “Something about you shaving off your beard just to help out a friend?” 

The classroom was beginning to fill up. I didn’t answer Petty; I just started my quiz. Petty dealt with a couple of other students, but by the time I was finished, she was free again. I gave her my test and she quickly graded it, recording my passing mark. “Did you check the calendar yet?” she asked me. 

“The calendar?” 

“Yeah,” she said, still seated at her table. I leaned on it so that we could speak quietly and not disturb the others. “The calendar of beard bets.” I shook my head and Petty grinned. “Don’t bother. Tell Ryan he can pay me any time now.”

I gaped at her; Petty had bet on my beard? I hadn’t known that. “See you around, Adam,” she said in response to my surprise. 

I gathered up my things, suddenly feeling pretty good about myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between chapters! I haven’t forgotten this series and have every intention of seeing it through to the end.
> 
>  
> 
> This story is dedicated to my friends at ‘Kitchen & Bath’, past and present, including those who’ve seen their names in print and those who haven’t yet. I’m trying to slide you all in still. 
> 
>  
> 
> Coming next in _A Year Apart_ : The sports star is starting to feel like a little fish in a big pond in February.

**Author's Note:**

> I am taking a short break from this story because...well...I don't know what comes next! Yes, I admit it! I have only a vague couple scenes I need to include in the rest of January, so I'm taking some time to figure that out. I'm also working ahead, not to February (which will be Jordan again) but to a story about the triplets' twenty-first birthday. I can't post that yet, because it gives important stuff away (like where Byron ends up going after he leaves Duke and what he ends up studying).
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I'm in a health crisis...This has been a bad year or so for me, with vertigo, horrible asthma and bronchitis, and now I'm down to one working kidney. At least, I hope it's still working! Dialysis and the kidney transplant list would stink, and that's an understatement. Keep your fingers crossed on that good kidney!


End file.
